Wise
by emily.down
Summary: Yet another Mary story, because I am fond of her. Mary is drawn to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Colonel Fitzwilliam...not so much. How will things progress?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

"Did you see him? I think he is rather handsome! Very handsome actually, to my vast knowledge!" Kitty commented laughing.

Mary nodded staring at Colonel Fitzwilliam with something resembling awe.

"He seems very…wise," she said.

He was talking to her sister, Elizabeth. His smile was full of gallantry and gentleness.

Elizabeth was wearing a white wedding gown. She was radiant. She had stuck white flowers in her hair. Her husband, Mr. Darcy was standing behind her, holding her by the small of her back.

They had just been wed that very morning. Now all their family and guests were celebrating at Pemberley.

The best silverware and crockery had been taken out, the finest tapestries laid out, the most lavish dresses. The chandeliers' light shone on everyone's face and everyone was smiling.

Soft music invited the couples to dance.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were sitting very content at a table with Mr. and Mrs. Collins. Mrs. Bennet was only too happy to let the pastor know how wrong he had been about her daughter.

"You see, Mr. Collins, had she accepted your hand then, she might have missed the great honour of becoming Mrs. Darcy! Imagine, a husband like Mr. Darcy! My little Lizzy knew Mr. Darcy loved her and she waited for him patiently, even if it meant losing a couple of suitors along the way. Because she was not admired only by you, Mr. Collins! Oh, no, there were many young men ready to admire her."

Mr. Collins had nothing to say to any of the woman's arguments. He knew when he was defeated. Now he was just waiting for Kitty to do something extraordinary so that he could feel that he was in the right about the sisters being very unruly.

Kitty had decided to go talk to the Colonel. Mary was about to follow her to the other part of the room.

"Mary, I want to talk to him by myself. And, I saw him first," she said, walking away.

Mary stopped where she was and watched them from afar. She clasped her hands over her waist. She had to strain her neck to look at them, because the couples were dancing and blocking her view.

The Colonel laughed at something she said and kissed her hand. Kitty smiled and waved her fan about her.

"Mary!" someone called her and she jumped from her place.

"Oh, Lizzy, it's you," she said, smiling and hugging her sister.

"The crowd was so large, I couldn't find you! Imagine, can't find my sister at my own wedding!"

"Yes, there are so many people…" Mary said looking around and stealing a glance at Kitty and the Colonel.

"My _husband_ and I think you should play a song for the occasion," Lizzy told her, smiling. "I think it would be a proper wedding gift. Only no singing please. Just playing. I am your sister, but I must be honest about your voice."

Mary laughed.

"Don't worry, I'm never doing that again. The singing, I mean. But I can't play to such a huge crowd. I will lose myself."

"No, you won't, not at all," Lizzy assured her. "They're just your friends and family. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Mary wanted to trust Lizzy. She wanted to believe she would not get cold feet and run away from the pianoforte, but she felt that she would do just that. The people around her would judge her. They would talk about her lack of talent. But maybe they would appreciate her selection or her efforts, because she always played complex pieces.

"But most of them do not care either way," she told herself as she walked up to the pianoforte.

The ball room had grown quieter.

"My dear sister, Mary, presents me with a gift," Elizabeth said, taking Mary's hand and guiding her to the stool.

Mary took a long time to take off her gloves.

When she finally touched the claps, there was complete silence. She dared look up. On the left, she saw Kitty standing next to the Colonel. They were both smiling at each other.

"Maybe he will notice me if I play very well," Mary thought, screwing her lips in concentration.

She began hesitantly. It was a wedding tune, a very playful, merry one.

After the first minutes passed, she felt slightly easier and managed to lift her head.

Already the middle of the room had been cleared. People were waiting for her to play faster so that they could dance.

Lizzy and Mr. Darcy stepped out first, followed by Jane and Mr. Bingley. Other couples quickly gathered around them and turned to the music.

Mary was now feeling tense. If she made a mistake now, she was doomed. Couples were dancing. One false note and it would all go to smoke, the dancing would stop and she would be blamed.

Her heart started beating faster.

She saw from the corner of her eye that Kitty and the Colonel had joined the dance.

A pang of jealousy hit her as she saw Kitty and he holding hands.

They grew closer, then drew apart, they joined hands, then let them go.

Mary wished she could stop playing, but she had to go on. She wondered if the Colonel would ever ask her to dance. He would ask her only out of politeness, she imagined.

At the end, when she finally could lift her fingers from the claps, she saw the Colonel kissing Kitty's hand again.

Everyone started clapping happily. They all looked at her and applauded. She got up and bowed.

"Bravo, bravo! My Mary can always perform!' Mrs. Bennet cried, kissing her daughter's cheek. Mary felt very embarrassed, but she thanked everyone nonetheless.

"Now, Mary, maybe someone will ask you to dance since you played so well," Mrs. Bennet said, smirking. "They might admire your talent. Indeed, there are prettier girls here, but none as talented as you."

The crowd dispersed to other rooms, but Mrs. Bennet waited patiently for someone to come up and ask for her daughter's hand.

"Mama, can I go now?" Mary said, looking away.

Mrs. Bennet glared at the young men joining the young ladies for a new dance. The band had already started a new song by Henry Purcell.

"Well! Disgraceful youths! They will not stand up with you! Well, it's your fault Mary for standing so far back. Come, stay in front and you'll catch someone's eye," Mrs. Bennet said and pushed her in front slightly.

Mary crossed her arms and looked at the couples dancing. It looked as if their movements would never end, as if they were tied together forever. They were all breathing at the same time.

Kitty ran to her and hit her in the ribs playfully. Mrs. Bennet had already left her, growing tired of the heavy silence.

"What are you doing here all alone? Never mind. I talked to the Colonel, did you see? He was such a gentleman. Did you know he and Mr. Darcy have been friends since childhood? He said he was astounded that all the Bennet sisters were beautiful! He said I am just as charming as Lizzy. He asked me to dance, did you see? Oh, I do hope he asks me again!"

"Well, where is he now?" Mary asked curious.

"Oh, he went to play cards with some friends. He said he would return. I barely know him, but I feel I like him very much," she said, panting from the exercise.

"He is easily liked," Mary remarked, looking around the room.

"How do I look?" Kitty asked, twirling. "Does my hair look alright?"

"You look very pretty," Mary answered, smiling.

"Do you think he will like me?"

"I think he already does," she replied forcefully, trying not to sound resentful.

The crowd slowly started to gather around the long, white tables in order to dine. The foods had been laid out on the cloths in silver bowls and plates. Everything boiled and smelt freshly cooked.

There were vases full of white lilies spread out across the tables, but their smell was very faint.

Mary sat down next to her father, who was talking to his neighbour, a man living in the village near Pemberley.

"Riot you say! Why would they replace men with machines?"

"It gets the work done faster and it increases the profit," the man was explaining.

"Yes, but a man cannot be compared to a machine. A man thinks and feels, whereas a machine cannot. In any case, a man's work must always be superior."

"Aye, but they don't want superior work, they just want some work done. Some men are threatening to tear down the factory. They think that they'll get their jobs back, but it will just make the whole thing harder."

"They shouldn't tear it down, but certainly…men must not dispose of other men just like that. Machines can't be of real use to anyone."

"I tend to disagree with you there, Mr. Bennet."

Mary looked up quickly, surprised by the boldness of the voice. There, just a few seats on her left, across the table, she saw Colonel Fitzwilliam. His face was half-lit, half-shadowed and his eyes seemed larger than they really were. Mary opened her mouth slightly.

"You do, Sir?" Mr. Bennet asked stupefied.

"Yes, quite. If you want to do business and do it seriously, you'd best think of profit first and feelings later. Men strive to make work easier and faster. It's been man's goal for centuries. The machines are just a way of getting there."

His eyes surveyed Mr. Bennet with a hint of irony.

Mary frowned.

"Why must there always be such a rush to get the work done?" she asked, naively.

The Colonel stared at her for a good minute. He hadn't noticed her there, listening.

Mary regretted afterwards saying what she had said, but now it was too late to take it back.

"I mean," she began unsure, "why must all work be done very quickly?"

There was a heavy pause in the air after she spoke. The men were looking at her amused.

"You are Miss...Mary Bennet, aren't you?" the Colonel asked.

"Yes, Sir."

He nodded and smiled condescendingly. The conversation changed to other subjects and she did not get the chance to talk anymore. Or to have him look at her.

After dinner, the couples rose again for a new dance. Mary was still chiding herself for having talked so out of place at the table and had actually formed a plan to apologize to the Colonel. She did not know exactly what she was apologizing for but she felt she should do it.

She decided to follow him a bit. She feared someone would notice, so she only walked in the same direction as he, but made it seem as if she was looking at someone else.

As she was finding her way through the throng of people, Kitty called to her.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked puzzled.

"No one," Mary lied. "What gave you that idea?"

"You keep looking about the room. Oh, have you seen the Colonel? I saw he was dining close to you."  
Mary paused. Should she tell Kitty or not? If she did not, it would be unfair to her sister and Kitty would find him anyway. She had nothing to say to him anyway.

"I think he went over there," Mary showed her pointing to an adjacent room.

Kitty nodded pleased and dragged Mary with her to that room.

"What are you doing?"

"Come on, maybe you'll play again at the pianoforte and the Colonel might ask me to dance."

But Mary managed to unclasp her hand from hers and lose herself in the crowd as Kitty pursued the Colonel in the other room.

She found a chair by a window and sat down, slightly tired from all the worrying.

She felt irritated, almost aggravated. She had no will to go look for him, because Kitty would be there. And even if she were alone with him, she would not be able to talk very well.

She wondered what it was about him that had drawn her in so very much. She wasn't the kind to like people at the drop of a hat. But she was quite fond of this man.

Maybe it was his wise look. There was something about him, in his eyes and manner of walking that made him look wise. She could not explain it.

Maybe the right word was experienced.

"In any case, after the wedding, I doubt I shall see him again," she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for the kind reviews. This is the new chapter. I hope you like it!_

For the rest of the evening, Mary kept an eye on the Colonel and Kitty, watching them from a distance. She knew it was not a very sisterly thing to do, but since she could not talk to him, she had the right to look at him, at the very least. Jealousy was not a foreign feeling for her. She had felt jealous of her sisters many times. Most of the times, she had envied their looks. She had also envied the easiness with which they made new acquaintances. Every time she met someone new, Mary had a problem opening her mouth. It took some time for her to be comfortable with someone. She had a strong fear of rejection which prevented her from taking many chances.

Even so, she had never felt compelled to envy her sisters' admirers. Lydia and Kitty were both very fond of officers, but Mary thought they were rude and careless. They never paid her any attention and she did not expect any from them. However, when Lizzie and Jane both found love in two handsome, intelligent and strong-willed gentlemen, Mary started to yearn for a companion like Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley. She would have been pleased to have such a man as a good friend, as someone to talk to and share her fears and aspirations with, but she had not been able to find someone like that in Hertfordshire. Her mother would have told her that having a man as a friend and not a husband was a waste.

"First marry him and then you will be friends. He will be your only constant friend for the next fifty years," she would often say. But Mary thought fifty years was a long time to have a friend. If she ever wanted to quit that friend, she could not do it because she would be married to him. That was a predicament. She thought about those star-crossed lovers in her books that never married and died in each other's arms. It seemed like a better way to go than fifty years of marriage.

After seeing the Colonel that evening, she thought that maybe fifty years in his company would not be such a problem. He had given her the same impression that Mr. Darcy had. They seemed to resemble each other in many ways. She did not know the Colonel very well, but she gathered he was a great gentleman, with a good breeding and a firm mind. Someone that she could have a conversation with on many subjects. Maybe he was cynical at times, but that only made her admire him more. There was something about him that seemed trust-worthy.

Having met him for only some hours, it was unlike her to become attached so quickly. Another time, she would have chided herself for admiring him on no solid grounds. Another time, she would have remembered that new acquaintances frightened her. Another time, she would have not tried to get close to him. She reasoned that her odd behaviour was due to the fact that he was different from others.

This sudden infatuation with a stranger caused her to feel jealousy. She would have wanted to hear what the Colonel and Kitty were talking about, but they were far away and she did not have the courage to approach them. He seemed to like her sister very much. It was not surprising. Most men liked Kitty, because she was fair and lovely and she was vivacious and spirited. But Mary had thought that the Colonel would pay attention to her as well, because he was different.

At the beginning of the ball, he had been introduced to her and he had held her hand briefly. He had not taken her hand to his lips, but he had smiled at her politely. He had had his chance to ask her to dance, but he had not taken it. She remembered that she had only danced twice in her life, with a friend of her father's. It had not been a very pleasant dance, because the man had been much older.

Generally, she did not like dancing very much because she wasn't very graceful at it. And she dreaded making a fool of herself in public. But dancing with the Colonel would have been an exception. Once again, she was not thinking with her head.

At the end of the night, Kitty and Colonel were made to part, but they did so warmly. Mrs. Bennet had been quick to notice that he was interested in her daughter. Before Mary and Kitty both retired to bed in their common bedroom, she called them to her.

"Well, Kitty? I noticed you danced with the Colonel all night!"

"That is hardly true, mama, I danced with other gentlemen as well," Kitty said, blushing.

"Yes, but from all of them you liked him best. I don't blame you. He is very handsome and good-natured too. He's a man of consequence. Mrs. Pembroke was telling me that he has 7000 a year. That is a very good sum for a young man like him."

"Well, he hasn't told me any of that, but he told me more about his relations with Mr. Darcy. They are very close cousins. They both went to the same university! But he is much more handsome than Mr. Darcy, I'm afraid. I always knew Colonels were better than officers," Kitty remarked.

"I suppose it is a pity he will be leaving tonight. It would have been so wonderful to have him with us at the garden party tomorrow," Mrs. Bennet said, sighing in a tired way.

"Oh, but mama, he is staying! Who told you otherwise? He plans on staying a couple of more days, he told me so!" Kitty replied.

Although Mary was not very comfortable with the conversation, she felt a surge of happiness at the news.

"Indeed, he said Mr. Darcy had asked him to stay a while longer," Kitty added.

"Oh, but that is wonderful, my dear! Then you must by all means talk to him again tomorrow. We must not miss the opportunity of knowing him better while he is still here."

Mary felt relief in knowing she would have another chance to talk to him. Perhaps this time she would find the courage to address him properly. Maybe Kitty would be occupied with someone else.

"And you Mary? Did you talk to anyone else?" her mother asked.

"Only with father," was her short answer.

"You'll never get anything done at this rate you know," Mrs. Bennet commented. "You'll need to try harder."

At length, the two sisters went to bed. When they were safely alone in their chamber, Kitty sighed and lay down next to Mary.

"I wonder if the Colonel likes me."

Mary felt frustrated. She wanted to sleep. She didn't want to be reminded that she hadn't talked to him.

"Yes, he does. He talked to you a great deal," she murmured. "Now go to bed."

"But how can I be sure that he does? I mean, Mr. Darcy liked Elizabeth, and he is a great deal like Mr. Darcy, but I'm not like Lizzie!"

"If the Colonel had liked Lizzie he would have courted _her_," Mary replied. "Which he did not."  
"There isn't any girl here prettier than me, is there? He would not be tempted by anyone else, would he?"

"I can't know that," Mary said groggily.

"Tomorrow, we should look out for any other young girls who talk to him," Kitty said.

The excitement in her voice was not lost to her sister. Kitty seemed to genuinely like the Colonel. She felt her heart sink.

**  
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were lucky to have favourable weather the following day in order to throw the garden party. Tents were set out across the acres of land. The servants brought marble tables and soft, wooden chairs. The men were given the chance to shoot some birds as well. The rifles were carried by the butlers.

There were ham, butter, cakes and tea on all the tables. The guests could sit and look at the calm surface of the lake in the distance while enjoying a cup of tea.

A band was strategically placed on a small stage next to the tents. They had not started playing yet.

Mary was sitting at Jane and Mr. Bingley's table. Kitty was already walking through the garden.

Lizzie and Mr. Darcy were going to being the party with a dance, but they hadn't arrived yet.

"So Mary, I hear you are interested in books. Jane tells me you are a great reader. I confess I admire any good reader," Charles said. "I don't have much time to read."

"I'm not a very good reader. It's not just how much you read, it is _what_ you read," she replied.

"Well, I should acquaint you with the Colonel, he is very fond of reading. Unless you have met him already."

Mary's heart started beating faster. She would have loved to have a pretext to talk to him. And what better way to do so than be introduced by Mr. Bingley personally?

"Oh, look darling, there he is, talking to Kitty. He seems to be fond of her, doesn't he?" Jane asked, pointing at the two, standing by another tent.

Mary stared in their direction with narrowed eyes, because the sunlight was making her eyes water.

She sighed heavily. She supposed now was not the time to be introduced. On the bright side, she had found out he liked books as well.

Maybe she could ask him something about it.

Lizzie and Darcy were soon seen climbing down the steps to the garden together. They were holding hands lightly. Everyone rose. They started applauding.

Lizzie was radiant in a pale, blue dress. She was grinning to her ears. Next to her, Darcy was smiling warmly, holding his wife by her waist proudly. His eyes showed he had never been happier.

They shared a chaste kiss after which they began dancing on the terrace. They seemed to be two halves of the same whole.

Jane and Mr. Bingley followed them immediately. Jane put her hand in his giving him a loving smile that only she could give. Mary smiled at them. She loved watching them dance. They all looked so wonderful together, as if they were bits of the same dream. She walked closer to the terrace, watching in awe.

The sun was hiding behind a cloud, but the soft, pink summer light only made the scene look more enchanting. She saw a flock of birds fly over the sky. They were white, just like the hems of the dresses. The leaves were rustling in the wind, making a soft sound, like the sound of their steps on the ground.

Not even the image of Kitty and the Colonel dancing could erase the beautiful moment. Not even that couple could remotely change the perfect aesthetics of the moment. Everything was harmonious; everything was soft and sweet, like a fairy tale. Mary was happy to be witness to a fairy tale.

Now if only the moment could be captured somehow. If only it would not fade into oblivion. There were so many balls in the world. Maybe right now, thousands of couples were dancing around the world. But the dance at Pemberley meant more than all of those together, she thought.

Everyone seemed to be entranced by the lovely pairs. Soon, almost all the couples were on the terrace. Those that weren't, longed to dance and watched in envy.

A lanky, tired looking young man approached Mary. She had absolutely no idea who he was. She hadn't seen him before.

He bowed and asked for the honour of a dance. He seemed to be mortified to be asking her, but he looked like a man with no other choices.

She had never danced with anyone of her age, so she accepted quickly.

They walked slowly to the terrace and he placed his hands around her awkwardly.

She wondered who he was and why he had asked her.

"I'm sorry, but I think we have not been acquainted," she mumbled.

"We don't need to be acquainted after one dance," he replied rather briskly. "But for the sake of it, I am Philip Cosgrove."

"It's a pleasure. I am Mary Bennet."

"Yes, I know. It was proper to ask one of the sisters to dance," he replied unabashedly.

Mary felt slightly hurt at his comment, but she chose to ignore it, because it was not every day that someone asked her to dance.

"So you asked me out of propriety?"

"Would there be any other reason? My congratulations to your sisters for their fortunate marriages," he added.

"Uh, thank you, I suppose."

"They must be excellent women, otherwise they wouldn't be married to such fine gentlemen," he said curtly.

She did not like his insinuations, so she chose to remain silent, watching the other couples around her.

She gazed at them wistfully. The Colonel and Kitty were dancing in their proximity. She couldn't help but stare longer than usual at him. He looked very dashing.

Phillip noticed it quickly and smiled to himself.

"I see you are staring at the Colonel," he said, breaking her stream of thoughts. "Are you acquainted with him?"

Mary was baffled by his blunt way of telling her this. She felt very embarrassed. Was it very noticeable that she was gazing admiringly at him?

Luckily, she almost never blushed. She was grateful for that.

"I know him distantly. And I was not staring at him. I was looking at my sister," she lied.

"No, you weren't. It was obvious you were looking at him. You seem to admire him."

"Well..." Mary trailed off unsure of what to say. "He is charming, I suppose."

"I assume you wanted _him_ to ask you to dance."

"Not necessarily..." she mumbled.

"But he asked your sister. It is rather droll. I would have asked your sister myself, but she already had a partner."

Mary was getting very irritated by him. His clear wish to displease her did not go by unnoticed.

He was indirectly insulting her.

"Maybe the following dance she will be free," she replied. "Then you can ask her."

"I see your plan. Then you would have the Colonel all to yourself," he said, smirking to himself. "But he will not ask you even if he does not have a partner."

Two red spots appeared on her cheeks, although she quite never blushed.

"Why are you so sure of that?" she asked quietly.

"Well, I pray you won't be offended, but I think we both know he would choose a prettier partner. It is just how men are, they like to look at pretty things."

"I know that," she retorted. "But he might not care for that. He might be different."

He almost chuckled.

"No one is." He paused. "I am not different and he is not different either. Your sister Katherine is lovely. We can all agree on that."

"Yes, but some people can appreciate other things as well," she replied patiently.

"You won't find them in this company," he said. "Much less anywhere else."

"You are wrong, there is me. I am part of the company," she replied.

"You are part of the company? Then you are just like everyone else," he said laconically.

Mary did not understand him. She shook her head. What did he mean by this speech?

The dance ended and they both bowed politely to each other, although Mary felt he did not deserve it.

As promised, as soon as her sister was free, Phillip Cosgrove approached her and asked her hand for another dance.

Later in the evening, the couples went for a walk around the lake. Kitty and Mary both descended together to the lake and found Georgiana Darcy and the Colonel walking together. They looked like brother and sister. He was holding her by her shoulders.

"Oh, Miss Katherine, how wonderful to see you. I see you have no walking partner, allow me. Take my other arm if you please. And Miss Bennet, you must join us as well,' he said, addressing Mary.

Georgiana excused herself, saying she needed to find her brother and the Colonel's left arm was left unoccupied.

Mary was waiting for the moment to take it. She felt content to be walking with him and her sister.

The low, starry sky was reflected in the deep, calm pool of dark water. There was no moon tonight. Their faces were hidden by the shade.

The only light that passed through was that of the flames from the lamp posts in the garden.

"I wish we could sail on the lake, a nice little boat would be perfect," Kitty said wistfully.

"It is a perfect suggestion. I wonder why Darcy has never done it before."

"Perhaps we could suggest it together, Colonel," she replied, laughing shortly. "I'm sure Lizzie would love it."

"That she would indeed."

"Well, I think the water would be too shallow for that," Mary quipped hopefully.

The Colonel and Kitty stared at her as if she had said something very silly.

He smiled.

"I heard from Mr. Bingley that you liked reading, Colonel," Mary added shyly.

"Oh, yes anything I can get my hands on. Unfortunately, reading for me is like drinking. I never remember exactly what I read. But it is useful to me, like good wine is."

"I say, you have read one book, you have read them all. I haven't yet found a book to impress me," Kitty commented knowingly.

"And you'd be right, Miss Katherine. Many a literate would agree with you. There is no good writing today."

"I would beg to differ..."Mary began. "Novels have come a long way. You may find some..."

"Novels?" the Colonel interrupted her. "Well, I'd say they are the lowest pieces of literature."

"I wouldn't," Mary persisted. "I think they render a complexity hard to find anywhere else."

"Perhaps you should search better, you will find complexity in many other things," he replied gallantly.

"Yes, but in a novel, a character can breathe. They can live. And what is more complex than life?" she would have wanted to say. But she remained quiet.

She couldn't find her voice to mark her opinion, even if she felt she was right.

They reached the clear surface of the lake. Kitty had picked up a dandelion on the way and now she threw it swiftly in the water. It lingered on the surface for a while, before sinking gracefully.

Mary heard voices behind them. Georgiana Darcy was speaking.

"Mr. Cosgrove, what shocking things you say!" she exclaimed.

The Colonel turned and bowed to the lady. Both gentlemen took off their hats.

"Ladies, Colonel," Phillip said, looking at each of them. Georgiana was holding his arm hesitantly.

"Cosgrove, I didn't see you at the wedding yesterday," the Colonel remarked shaking his hand rather reluctantly.

"I came too late, I'm afraid. Or perhaps too early. I was lucky enough to catch the garden party," he replied.

He stared at Mary and smirked. She knew what he was probably thinking. He must have thought that she was a sad thing, following Kitty and the Colonel around the lake, without a partner.

"I see you have two partners, you old fox," Phillip remarked acidly.

"Oh, yes, I am delighted to have the two Miss Bennets with me,' he replied.

The two girls curtsied.

"Well, one of you must be superfluous," he remarked loud enough for Mary to hear as he passed with Miss Darcy.

"He is a comical man, isn't he?" Kitty said after he was further away. "He danced with me, as I recall."

"Oh, he's a buffoon," the Colonel agreed. "I've known him for a while. An eccentric idiot, nothing else."  
They continued their walk around the lake without any further disturbances.

When they reached the tents again, the servants were clearing the tables.

Once again, Mary sat down next to Jane and Mr. Bingley.

"It has been quite a day, hasn't it, Mary?" she asked, smiling.

Mrs. Bennet quickly joined their table, kissing Jane loudly on the cheeks.

"Oh, your father would not finish the walk around the lake, I had to walk it with Mr. Wentworth! It was mortifying! Mary, I saw Kitty and the Colonel walking together again. Does he seem to like her?"

Mary turned away annoyed and looked at the dark lake instead. She would honour that question later.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Okay, so this one's a tad short, but I like it, because here I introduce an important character. Thanks for the support everyone and please review, Mary would appreciate it also:) (how cheesy was that?)**_

As the party withdrew indoors, the clouds sank heavier to the ground. The night sky had a peculiar way of enveloping them in a state of agitated sleep. The servants had to put down the tents that were blown up by the wind into the sky only to fall down like wounded birds and beg for forgiveness.

Everyone was a little bit tipsy. It looked like rain outside, but no one cared anymore because everyone was walking in the dining room with the thought of eating and having a good time.

The guests drank even more wine. Mary did not touch her cup. She was sitting next to her sister, Kitty, this time.

The general turbulence around them alarmed Kitty a bit. She was not used to watching fine people become untamed after a certain hour. But Mary was calm as usual, if not a bit miserable. Since at most country dances she stood by her father's side, she got to see many men getting drunk and got to hear many loud words that should have been said in a whisper.

Whenever they walked into town, she would see drunkards begging women for money. It was not a pretty sight, it was not even a sight, it was only a feeling of disturbance. She knew the Earth spun, several times. But she felt there was a weak thread keeping it all in place, a thread which grew thinner and thinner when men got drunk and abused their power.

The vicissitude of the world was beautiful in its power to produce decay. She was actually watching a beautiful flower wilting.

In her heart, she hated them. But in her mind, she admired them, secretly.

"The Colonel sat down all over there! This way we won't be able to talk!" Kitty complained. She waved at the Colonel shortly and he nodded his head towards her. He was trying to bargain for a seat across from Kitty, but the elderly woman that was occupying it did not take kindly to his endeavours.

The bright light of dozens of candles only enhanced the enabriated feeling of the place. The wooden surface of the table looked almost golden. And the plates were filled with food of many colours.

Lizzie and Darcy were impervious to the discomfort of a late supper, surrounded by loud, obnoxious guests. Pemberley held too much meaning to them and their love.

They savoured each other's eyes and had ears for no one else.

Most of the guests began eating heartily, but Phillip Cosgrove first emptied his cup. No matter how much he drank, he never got even the slightest bit tipsy. His head never swirled, he never saw the world upside down. It was infurating to him.

He saw Mary Bennet sitting across from him, trying to eat. Around her people were talking brashly. Kitty was currently trying to persuade the elderly lady herself, with no fruitful results, however.

She had a pious look about her, almost as if she was glad she was there, she was glad to be bored and tired.

Mary noticed him as well. She would have wanted to ask one of her neighbours about him, but neither was now disposed to give valid and clear information.

"Mary? I have a better idea! You could go in the Colonel's stead and he could come sit next to me," Kitty suggested.

It was highly improper to do so. It would only attract unnecessary attention and settle Kitty as a flirt amongst her companions.

"Fine, I'll go," she muttered tiredly.

The Colonel thanked her in an embarrassed voice, not daring to look into her eyes as they made to switch places. Their hands brushed briefly as they both took hold of a chair, but it was only a moment and they both turned from each other quickly.

Mary sat down next to the fastidious elderly lady. She was smiling bitterly at the Colonel.

"Humph! What a foolish dandy! I had given him more credit before!"

Mary nodded complacently, afraid the elderly lady would snap at her if she did not respond in some way. She looked like a fearsome woman. She reminded her of Lady Catherine.

"Oh, so many false friends at this table! I wonder how they are still alive! You know, we only see each other at these trivial events when a man and a woman decide to marry or have a child!" she said, laughing and waving her hand.

"I see..." Mary muttered looking at the guests as if they were old acquaintances.

"And who might you be?"

"Mary Bennet, ma'am."

"Bennet? Mrs. Darcy's sister? Well, heavens be blessed! Another one? How many sisters does she have? Well, then you are related to that little vixen there!" she exclaimed pointing at Kitty.

"Oh, she is not a vixen. She is my sister, she is a very kind girl," Mary assured her, taking a bite of her food.

"Humph! And where pray is your other sister? The youngest?"

"I thought you did not know how many sisters Elizabeth had, ma'am," she replied coyly.

"Aha, sharp girl, I see. Well, I do read the tabloids dear, if it is any consolation. The newspaper made out the wedding to be some heinous crime of passion! As if marriage is anything but dull! Take it from someone who knows! In any case, your sister Lydia made a good choice."

"A good choice?" Mary asked surprised.

"Well, yes of course! That low-life, speculant officer she wed is a good provider. He will suck out money from everyone. And he is rather handsome too. In my day no one made such a fuss over such a husband. I only wish mine could have had that sort of...intiative," she said, sighing nostalgically.

"Well, I don't know if Mr. Wickham had initiative. I rather think he wasn't intelligent. He was clever, but not intelligent. His thinking only went as far as his target," Mary remarked pensively.

"And what else is there to want in a man? More intelligence? Goodness, then we wouldn't be safe anymore. How do you think women get by otherwise?" the elderly woman asked, amused.

Mary chuckled amused herself.

"But where are my manners, I always forget myself, I am Lady Tramel, of Essex. Married to Lord Davon. Well, the deceased Lord Davon."

"Oh, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Mary replied politely.

"So, dear, tell me, what do you think of Darcy? Is he a good sort of man? I've known him since infancy but yet I still cannot make out his character."

"Well…I would barely know myself. I only know him distantly."  
"But come, your sister has never made any confessions to you?"

"That honour goes to Jane, not to me."  
"You mean, Mrs. Bingley? Oh she is a fine woman. A bit too quiet and happy for my taste, but otherwise…Well, anyway, do tell me, off the top of your head, how do you find Mr. Darcy?"

"I find him…proud, but he has a reason to be proud," Mary said meekly.

"Yes, yes, indeed, but as a man dear? Would you marry him?"

"No," she replied quickly. "I would be afraid of pleasing him. I wouldn't want to be taxed by his disapproval."

"Ah, so you are afraid you wouldn't make him a good wife, because he is hard to please."  
"Perhaps. I would find the stress unbearable."

"Hmm…I quite like you. You speak your mind in a most delicious manner. Now if only you did something to that hair, I am sure a nice young man would look at you too and not only at your sister, over there."

Mary only whitened a bit in reply. She wasn't sure of what to say, even though she had just been complimented on her directness of speech.

"You look very beautiful," she mustered at length. She corrected herself immediately when Lady Tramel stared at her perplexed.

"I meant you have a grandeur hard to describe in words. You are very elegant."  
She smiled contently and looked at one of her ruby rings on her thick fingers.

"It's only the illusion of my speech. People find me charming because I am a tad…exotic. But I know you were not just flattering me with empty words, because you don't seem to have a way with compliments. I suppose you haven't met a great deal of women such as myself. I have seen your mother. She isn't and couldn't be my friend. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Mary said a bit flustered.

"So tell me, dear, do you plan on staying with the Darcy's? Or do you plan on marrying as well?"

"I haven't given it a thought yet. I'm still young."

Lady Tramel started laughing copiously.

"Ah, my dear, you are just too delicious. You are naïve and you are not young. Now, twelve is being young. Fifteen is being ripe. And nineteen is already being mature."

"I am eighteen actually," Mary said a bit warily.

"All the more reason to start considering your options. You are soon to be mature enough to make a decision whether you want to live off your sister's handsome inheritance or whether you wish to tie yourself to an honourable gentleman of a calm disposition and modest income."

"I wouldn't like to do either for now. I love my country home too much."  
"Oh, I used to say that too. Until I saw my husband's large house. And other properties of his. Then I didn't think of it anymore."

"Did he have a large library?" she asked hopefully.

"Oh, no, serious, bland men never read, in case they might get any ideas. I brought most of the books. Do you like reading?"

"Yes, I am quite fond of it."  
"Good then. Don't read in front of them," she said pointing at the men around them. "It will scare them off. And I mean it with sincerity."  
Mary smiled to her as she continued eating. She decided she quite liked this Lady Tramel.

"So, no one here has caught your eye?" she suddenly asked.

"Um, no," she replied quickly.

"No one at all?"

"I don't think so,' she wavered slightly.

"Who is it, dear? You can tell me."  
But Mary remained stubbornly quiet.

"Come dear, you are the only intelligent creature I have talked to all day. You must spare me the misery of guessing."

Mary smiled again and stole a quick look at the Colonel and Kitty, who were talking animatedly. Just as she was about to turn away from them, the Colonel turned slightly and met her eyes. She could read a deep apology in them as he stared at her with something akin to sadness. But she believed it was more like mortification.

"Ah! The Colonel! I should have known! What woman can resist his easy manners? Not to mention he's got a handsome fortune which he does not boast, like most gentlemen would. But he is in want of some imagination. I'm afraid your sister will not provide it for him."

"I…I do not fancy him, I simply admire him, a little," Mary replied awkwardly.

"Haha, my dear, you are charming! Of course you do. We all admire men, we must have one flaw, we can't be perfect I'm afraid. See, I have it too. I confess I quite admire Mr. Cosgrove."

Mary's head turned quickly. That name was familiar to her.

"He sits right over there, lost in some perverse thought, no doubt," Lady Tramel said, taking a sip of wine and barely pointing at Phillip.

"Oh, I think I know him."

"You do? Lucky creature! He is a dying species I am afraid. Or perhaps a new one. He is truly insane. Insane because he is the only one who actually sees us all as we are."

Mary was slightly confused by this description. She never believed anyone was truly insane. She believed they only played games with themselves.

"I have danced with him. He was…a bit rude."

"A bit? Come darling, he is the epitome of impudency. But he is not a scoundrel or a cad. No, that is why I admire him. He has a very elegant way of being an execrable man. So he danced with you?"

"Yes, he said he preferred my sister, but I think he prefers no one. He seemed to disapprove of anyone."

"And isn't he in the right? Is anyone here worthy of approval? Well, maybe you are dear. I haven't seen you touch your wine yet."

"I don't like it."

"Everyone likes wine. It is common knowledge. But tell me, do you know him very well?"

"No, I don't. I don't think I want to."  
"Well, I do know him. He pretends not to ackowledge my presence now, but he came earlier and offered me his warm salutes. I first saw him in France. His father had left him a good fortune and he immediately dispensed of it. He played it away as fast as he could. Not because he was addicted to gambling, mind you, but because he hated money. One night, I saw him burn some in the fireplace. It was the truest moment of my life. Watching money burn was something like watching Rome disintegrate. The rest of the money he spent on women. He seduced a couple, but abandoned them quickly, because they wouldn't take his money. So he hired some courtesans and when they showed up, he asked them to simply stand there naked in his room while he wrote business letters. I know I am painting a very crude image. Please excuse me. I simply forget myself in my admiration. Yes, I wish my husband had been like him. Now you know why they call me…exotic," she said grinning.

Mary stared at Phillip Cosgrove from across the table with something resembling curiosity. It was an innocent sort of curiosity, the kind of curiosity one would show for a rare plant, or for the shape of a cloud.

"You don't look very impressed," Lady Tramel commented.

"Burning money isn't all that bad," she mumbled. "Except, when I think of those poor workers and peasants that struggle every day to feed their children. That's when it feels it is a very bad thing to do."

The elderly lady smiled sadly.

"I am glad someone thinks of them. Otherwise, they would be quite forgotten."

"Those courtesans needed the money desperately. Otherwise they wouldn't have done…that," she continued.

"So it all comes down to money. But it is hilarious. It really is. Because he made it all back. He lost almost all of his inheritance, after which he started investing in some ships and other dull things and soon, low and behold, he had money again. Now he must be trying to find a way to get rid of it again."

"Then he should give his money to people who need it," she replied.

"I am sure he intends to do so, well, after he has had his laugh with us. My theory is that he abhors people. But I might be wrong."

"Then he must loathe himself as well," Mary remarked.

"Hahaha, my dear, I would love to have you with me in Essex. You speak truthfully. He probably does. All great men do. We can never know. There's never been a great woman, yet."

"You mean a woman could never have the strength to hate herself?"

"Well, yes. Our vanity always gets in the way."

Mary sighed and pressed a palm to her forehead.

"I wish we could all go to bed, already."

"Maybe you are right. But tomorrow, you and I must continue our discussion. I admit that you entertain me greatly and I mean it as a compliment," Lady Tramel said, smiling gleefully.

Mary excused herself politely from everyone and retired to bed.

Before leaving the room she noticed the Colonel gave her a last apologizing look before averting his eyes.

_**Don't forget to share your thoughts!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thank you everyone for the support and for taking time with my story, very grateful! I hope you like this chapter as well.**_

The following day would be the last day before the Bennet family had to return to Hertfordshire.

They would depart early in the morning. Mrs. Bennet would have wanted to stay longer for the sake of her daughters. But Mr. Bennet had insisted that Elizabeth should be left alone with her husband.

"She is old enough to take care of herself. She is a wife now. We would only be in her way."

"But her sisters, Mr. Bennet, think of Kitty and Mary!"

"Kitty and Mary will be just as happy at Longbourn."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet! It is not everywhere that they are in the midst of good society. They can't have any useful company at Merryton, even if there are some good families there," Mrs. Bennet argued. "Pemberley is the right place for them to find husbands!

"My dear, I often wonder at your boldness, I thought I had married a woman of some sense," he said briskly. "If they are in search of husbands, no sensible man shall wed them."

"You may tease me, Mr. Bennet and argue with me, but I know better! Colonel Fitzwilliam has shown great interest in Kitty!"

"The Colonel shows great interest in any handsome woman. He is a refined young man and therefore can afford to be affable to all of them."

"Well, even so! His attentions to Kitty could not be clearer. Should we leave now, we would separate them and nothing would come out of their acquaintance. That would be a waste of good luck, Mr. Bennet!"

"What language you employ my dear...but depend upon it, Mrs. Bennet, we are to leave," he insisted firmly.

Seeing as her husband was quite relentless, Mrs. Bennet decided to discuss the matter with Jane, knowing that she would bring it up with Elizabeth later.

"I'm afraid, my dear, that we would be tossing aside a great chance, perhaps another good match. You and Lizzie have been so fortunate. Is it so very wrong of me to want the same for Kitty? And heavens knows I am not imagining wild things, I think everyone saw how the Colonel looks at her."

"Yes, mama, but they have known each other for three days only. Would that really be advisable? How can they have already formed an attachment?"

"Well, young people these days fall in love quickly. They think there is no time left. So they rush with their feelings. Why, right now, Kitty and the Colonel must be walking through the gardens. I saw them in a large party, but I daresay they continued walking alone afterwards."

Jane did not know what to make of her mother's impressions, but she promised her that she would consult with Lizzie.

Mrs. Bennet had been in the right, however, as Kitty and the Colonel were indeed passing through the gardens. Five other pairs were walking in front of them.

"I will be leaving tomorrow morning," Kitty mentioned sadly. "But I hope I can visit again. I would very much like to see Pemberley again."

"Yes, one grows attached to it," the Colonel remarked. "I shall miss your presence, Miss Bennet. You have livened our stay here. I hope Elizabeth invites you to stay here again."

"It all depends on whether she thinks I have behaved well now," she replied, smilinh playfully.

"I can vouch for your conduct, if be necessary."

They both chuckled.

"Perhaps I might come for Christmas. It is my favourite time of the year. It's always the happiest. It's an occasion for the most beautiful balls."

"It is a beautiful time. I am very fond of snow," he mentioned.

"Oh, no, I quite abhor it, it is very troublesome," she replied, wrinkling her nose. "I can never walk anywhere."

The Colonel nodded absently and looked up at the green canopies that swept the golden sky.

He suddenly felt out of place. He felt his own steps weren't his. He felt someone was walking with him, but it was not the beautiful girl. His boots felt heavy. With every step, he recounted their short and uneven replies and analyzed that small wrinkle of her nose. Their conversation always ended somewhere between silence and noise. He preferred the noise. Something inside of him was twisting his feelings. He believed he would miss her presence, because Katherine Bennet was the silliest girl he had ever met and it eased his mind. He did not have to pretend to be a better man around her.

At the same time, this thought brought sadness to his eyes.

"Will you be here at Christmas?" she asked.

"Yes, I daresay so. Unless I am needed at Rosings, but that is hardly the case."

"Then, I shall be very happy to see you again," she replied softly, her long eyelashes casting a bright shadow under her blue eyes.

Her grasp on his arm tightened as she jumped over a large stone. She laughed out of air, but quickly stopped when she noticed he was silent. He only smiled at her contently.

On the other bank of the lake, Mary was walking alone, playing with her shawl. She lifted it in her arms and used it as a cover for the sun. She was fascinated by the soft rays that pierced the shawl and touched her face. The light was brown and yellow.

She had been out for a while. She was quite tired. Kitty had not seen her walk out of their room early that morning. Mary had felt anxious about leaving Pemberley. She thought she would never see it again. Therefore, she went out early to take a long walk on the grounds.

She had missed the late breakfast in the foyer. Lady Tramel had asked about her.

Mary was always happy when she was alone. Many people sought solitude in times of desperation, when sadness overwhelmed them and they felt no other soul could offer them solace. When they were haunted by dark thoughts, they would rather be alone, so no one could guess what they were thinking, so that they would be able to think in peace.

But Mary usually liked being alone at all times, no matter the event. When she was content, she liked being alone the most, because when she was content she was in a half-state, between happiness and sadness and no one could interrupt her stream of calm feelings.

The Colonel noticed her small figure from afar. She was picking some stones and throwing them in the lake.

Without letting Kitty know her sister was close, he touched her small fingers that were gripping his arm and he asked:

"And your sister, Mary, will she come for Christmas as well?"

Kitty looked up alarmed. She felt his voice had wavered.

"I do not know. Perhaps. She does not like going out in society," she said forcefully. "She does not enjoy balls or gatherings, I'm afraid. She might stay home."

"She does not enjoy balls?" he asked surprised. "Why not?"

"Well, she abhors dancing and does not know how to dance, unfortunately. And no one really asks her to dance, in any case," Kitty replied.

The Colonel looked back at Mary. Now she was playing with her shawl again. She looked like a very serious child, trying to play.

"It isn't good for a young lady to be unsociable," he remarked.

"Oh, mama has told her countless times! She is plain, you see, and can't afford to be taciturn, but she will not see reason."

The Colonel remembered mocking her about her novels. He felt he had been in the right. Any respectable young man thought a woman shouldn't be reading novels.

She was a pedant, he thought. She was a very thorough pedant. At the same time she was a young girl, prone to fancies and that is why she admired novels.

He looked away, deciding it was best not to mind her anymore.

"I am very happy _you_ are not taciturn, Miss Bennet," he added.

Kitty smiled, revealing her white, sharp teeth.

* * *

Mary had abandoned the lake and had found a quiet little meadow at the southern boundaries of the estate. It was very warm outside and it was not helping at all that most of her dresses were brown or grey. She pulled up her sleeves and tied the shawl around her waist.

She sat down on the blazing grass and drew her legs to her chest. She saw a blue jay flying over her head. For a moment, its wings covered the sunlight and a dark, black point replaced the oval, yellow disc.

She wondered amused how one small thing could cover something as large as a star. She put her finger up to the sky and covered the sun.

From here on Earth, anything could be mightier than the Sun.

She wouldn't have minded living in this meadow. If this small piece of land could break free from the lands around her and become her own island. She could have built a straw house and she would have drunk rain water and eaten berries and nuts. She liked the idea of a Crusoe.

Her peace was disturbed however, when she heard a gunshot.

She quickly got up and looked in the distance. The trees were blocking her view. She crept between their branches to see who was shooting.

She saw a man, aiming his rifle at the birds in the sky. The place seemed deserted. She came out of her hiding place and looked around to see if there were other men.

"There's no one here," she said, breaking the silence.

The man turned around slightly surprised.

"Oh, the Bennet girl. What are you doing here? Looking for the Colonel?" Phillip asked impatiently, filling up his rifle again.

Mary curtsied and looked around her again, unsure.

"Why are you shooting here alone?"

The smell of bullets was stuck to her dress now.

"Well, as much as I'd like to try this on one of our kind, I wanted to find a place where I wouldn't be disturbed."

"But you didn't find a very good place then," she noticed.

"Is there a certain reason you are here, Miss Bennet?" he asked irritated.

"I was just in the meadow over there, it's a very beautiful meadow. But why are you shooting the birds?"

He furrowed his brows. He couldn't help but think she was an idiot.

"Forgive me for assuming you had more intelligence, Miss Bennet."

"Well, you are not shooting them for food, so then it's just for sport. A blue jay passed and you might have killed it and it is a shame to kill these beautiful things. They have done nothing to you."

"I didn't see you voicing these conservatory opinions yesterday when the men were shooting," he replied roughly.

"Well, I couldn't just go and tell them. They were many."  
"So then, since I am the only one you've found today, you think I will be less ruthless than five men?"

She nodded somewhat absently, staring intently at the bright, incadescent sky.

"If you shoot them for sport, it is a pity," she repeated.

"Well, then, to allay your fears, I will tell the cook to fry them just for me. Would that console you?"

She frowned and narrowed her eyes, fearful that the sunlight would make them water. The light made everything seem pitch-black.

She simply curtsied and walked away, muttering in her leave a quiet "Excuse me".

Phillip stared after her a good while, one eyebrow raised.

Finally, he pulled the rifle to the side and brought a cigarette to his lips, whispering "pedant".

The word had been applied by two men to describe her.

When Mary finally stepped inside the house, she found Lady Tramel waiting for her.

"Oh, good, I have been meaning to talk to you. Let us find a quiet place in the drawing room."


	5. Chapter 5

**And this is the new, longer chapter. I can't say I am extremely pleased with it, but I am content. Thanks so much to all reviewers and readers, please do not change :) I hope you like this chapter.**

Chapter 5.

Presently Lady Tramel took it upon herself to guide Mary into one of the laboriously decorated parlours of the house. It was meant to be a simple parlour, but it looked more like a guest room with large panels of wood stuck to the wall and some family portraits of some insignificant cousins, hung here and there.

The Lady seemed anxious to sit down and talk and she would not relent until they were both seated. Mary for her part was glad to rest her feet. She had been walking a long way and she was feeling thirsty.

The Lady looked about her in an agitated manner, almost as if she was afraid someone was hiding in the room and was going to jump up from some unseen corner and assault her.

"You might find my manner curious, but I have been hiding all morning long from those **women**," she explained gesticulating rather roughly.

"Who are they?" Mary asked curious.

"They are a pair of very unfortunate old ladies gifted with the brain the size of a pea. I am sure I have never met a more vexing lot. They came into the garden, willing to talk to me and sit with me at tea. At first I thought nothing of it, because I like taking my tea in the garden and preferably to have some conversation, but I soon learnt they had daughters. Oh, yes! They have all come to the wedding with their daughters. I foresaw the danger at hand, but I was not quick enough to prevent it. As consequence, they started chattering incessantly about how their _Lucille_ had danced with some coxcomb son of a bishop and how their _Jessie_ had been asked to play by the honourable duke of nobody and how Mr. Darcy himself commented that darling _Annie_ had a very nice figure! Mr. Darcy, commenting on figures! I tell you, I am sick of these silly mothers! Why they thought I would care to know about their daughters' affairs is beyond my comprehension!"

After this precipitated speech, Lady Tramel settled in an angry silence, huffing from time to time at the inappropriateness of those rude women.

"Maybe the mothers thought you were like them, ma'am," Mary replied thinking about it for a minute.

"And how is that!"

"Maybe they thought you were going to talk about some daughter of yours as well."

"Ahaha, perhaps they did! Well, I quickly let them know that even if I had a daughter, I would not make her the object of ridicule by talking of her conquests in public. I don't think they understood me!"

"No, they most likely didn't. They probably dote on their daughters but do not know how to express it otherwise," Mary added.

"I am sure they do not. They went on talking to me, expecting me to compliment their offspring for every small success, even if I had never seen them, never heard of them, never been properly introduced. Or maybe they wanted me to set them up with some acquaintance of mine! I felt half-ashamed for their _Annies_ and _Lucilles_. They don't know the mothers they have."

"I suppose they don't really."

"In any case, I made my quick escape, claiming some stomach ache and I thought they would let me leave instantly, but no! They wanted to give me advice on my ache. Suddenly they were all physicians. Eventually, I managed to extricate myself. And that is when I found you, my dear and I'm happy for it because I am no longer in bad company."

"I am also glad, because I enjoy your company, ma'am," Mary replied smiling.

"You are pleasantly candid, as always. Now we can resume our conversation from last night's supper. But do tell me, how did you occupy your time while I was abused by those dim-witted women?"

"I walked a bit about the grounds."  
"Did you? Were you walking with the pairs? I think I saw some. In fact, yes, I did."

"No, I didn't see them. But I like walking alone. It's better for me."  
"Is it really now?"

"Yes."

Lady Tramel waited for her to explain more eloquently, but Mary didn't seem to understand that she was supposed to go on.

"Well, why is that?" she asked.

"Well, when I walk alone, I never have to watch what I am doing like I must when I am with someone else."

"Ah, a very original reason. Not bad," she replied, smiling. "But maybe not good enough. Are you generally of an unsociable disposition?"

"Not really. I don't think so. I don't really know my disposition. One can't know it so early."  
"You should know yourself by now."  
"Oh, I don't know about that. Right now, it seems too early to decide on my character, or on anything else. I will wait till I am older."

"Well, dear, on this judgement, you might never decide on anything. You might leave it as that. I mean to say, if you wait for too long, you may never begin doing anything."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of that. Someday I will have the necessary disposition to think and decide who I am," Mary replied in a stupor.

"Someday! My dear, this word is very dangerous. Apply it with care. Someday may turn into never."

Mary shrugged her shoulder in a 'be that as it may' fashion, intending to say that she was not highly preoccupied by it right now.

Lady Tramel thought in secrecy that Miss Mary must be calling her bluff. Maybe she was of a more phlegmatic disposition. Certainly, young people did not talk in so odd a manner.

"I will be sad to see you go tomorrow," the Lady mentioned, averting the conversation. "Maybe you shall come to visit at Christmas."

"I hope so, although it will be hard to drive here. The roads will be frozen and father doesn't have a good carriage," Mary explained.

"But my dear, your two sisters are happily married to men of significant fortune! You don't suppose you shall have to worry about carriages! When your sister is a Darcy, that should be the last of your concerns," Lady Tramel protested.

"My father would never accept any _charity _from Mr. Darcy," Mary said.

"Well your father might _not_, but we both know your mother will oblige him," Lady Tramel explained. "And it is not charity, my dear. It's only natural for the more fortunate children to provide for their less fortunate family. It's a common rule."

"But we are not exactly misfortunate," Mary emphasised.

"Of course not. But a little help wouldn't hurt, would it? If someone is willing to offer you something, why not take it? Besides, do not forget that the land is entailed to your cousin, Mr. Collins."

"I could not forget about that. But simply because someone offers something it does not mean it is right to take it," Mary argued.

"It is right to take from your brother-in-law. If you do not take from him then from who?" Lady Tramel asked with a mischievous look in her eye.

"From Colonel Fitzwilliam?" she added jestingly.

Mary was busying herself straightening her creased hems when she heard this suggestion. She looked up, turning slightly whiter.

"Speaking of which, I saw the Colonel walking with your sister again," Lady Tramel quickly added. "When are you going to do something about that?"

Mary blushed slightly.

"I don't want to do anything about it."

"Now, that's a lie. And not a very good one. I can see you admire him. There is no use hiding it from me. Why do you let your sister have the upper hand? You are the elder one."

"It doesn't matter if I'm older," Mary explained. "It doesn't work that way in my family."

"Well how then?"

"Kitty always gets what she desires. It is not a bad thing. She is liked by everyone around her, which makes her task easier. I can't take anything away from her because there is nothing to take. She likes the Colonel. He likes her back. There is nothing to do here."

"Indeed! You mean you will just give up because he seems to like her? Well, of course he does since she is always around him, always keeping him company, even when she shouldn't. Men like sociable girls. He has not even talked to you properly. If you want to be liked like your sister then you'd better do something about it."

"But I don't want to be liked by everyone, that would be tiring," Mary reasoned. "I just like admiring him from afar."

"Then you insult the object of your admiration by not giving him enough value. You do not treat him like a man."

"I have tried, in my own way, to show my admiration," Mary countered.

"But you're not showing any of it, that is the inherent problem!"

"It would be too much trouble to show it any other way. And even if I tried, I would not get anywhere."

"I don't like it when young people like you decide to give up before they have even started. It's the sort of thing that makes me think the new generations are doomed! You decide to end life before you begin it."

"No, I simply decide not to do anything. It is a decision just like any other. And it does not mean I do not live my life."

"But you will have many regrets if you live it like this, letting every good opportunity slip away. You will wait for something to happen and when it does, you will not do anything about it. Until there are no more opportunities left. Yes, you are setting yourself up for regret."

"I don't think I'll have many regrets about it," Mary argued unaffectedly. "It is my choice after all. I would only regret it if I had to live it some other way. And I am doing something, just not something about _this_ matter."

"Why not? You say you like him well enough," the Lady countered.

"I do, but I know it is unlikely for him to like me back. He already likes Kitty. It would be unfair of me," she answered.

Lady Tramel searched her face carefully for a conclusive proof of her speech, but saw no pain or resignation in it. Only a trace of disappointment. As if she was quite used to this kind of situation.

The Lady sighed. She was tired of arguing. It was too disconcerting for her.

She found Mary's nonchalant, calm and serene replies more tiring and painful than some loud, brash arguments. Instead of being a passionate, active-minded and hopeful youth, she was a languid, dissipated old girl.

Something was entirely wrong with this creature.

When she was her age, she did not think like her at all. When she was young, she used to dream and hope and have a dangerously vivid imagination. She used to make something of every new day.

Mary Bennet was like a new sort of plant she had discovered in a garden. She couldn't help but wonder if she was really in earnest about what she had said. Was it just childish indifference? Was it just feminine emancipation?

"Well! I daresay you talk like an old woman already! I wonder at your way of thinking. Inertia is a terrible thing. When you are at my age, you shall understand."

Mary did not seem convinced. Lady Tramel wondered how she could be so confident about it. She did not seem so confident about anything else.

The argument was abandoned, thankfully, for some other topics, although, all throughout the conversation, the Lady tried to breach that point again, only to have it knocked on the head like before. Mary seemed to think nothing of her youth. Or at least nothing that the Lady could approve of.

Lady Tramel thought she was the perfect companion for an old lady like herself.

* * *

The noon sun was now threatening to scorch and blister the faces of the young couples walking outside. Its powerful rays sent everybody inside the house, waiting for dinner. Only some gardeners and workers here and there, equipped with straw hats and gloves, walked the fields in the torpid heat, watching the green lands quiver in the sunshine.

The parties were scattered around the house in a most inefficacious way. So it happened that in one drawing room, Mr. Cosgrove and Lady Tramel finally hit upon the chance of renewing acquaintance.

Mr. Cosgrove had found Lady Tramel sitting quietly by the fire and he had recognized her immediately. Without taking any considerations, he began talking to her freely. She was most delighted.

"I feel stupid for not having found you earlier. I would not miss the benefit of your conversation," he told her, sitting by her side.

"At first I was a little perplexed, I admit. You not paying your gallantries to an old friend? Not likely. But now I see you've remembered me."

"I believe you hid from me well. I know you like it better to be found than to seek. And yet I find you in a languid disposition. I suppose you must bore yourself terribly at Pemberley. It is not the liveliest of places. Nor is this wedding something to be laughed at, I'm afraid. Mr. Darcy will not have it. I say, I am sad he is married to Eliza Bennet. Had I known of her, I would have picked her myself."

"Oh, really now! Would you have? I daresay you wouldn't. She is too intelligent for your taste. You wouldn't be able to fool her. And in any case, if she knew your character, she would never take you."

"It is too late now to infer she might or might not," he added. "But with some _cooing_ on my part, she would have taken me."

"Oh, keep quiet, some will hear you and throw you out of their company," she said, laughing behind her fan.

"No, they would not. I am too rich for that now," he said carelessly. "That is what they care about chiefly."

"You would be surprised. Some folks here give lead to gentility rather than pecuniary situation."

"It is a good guise. But in the long run, they can sacrifice a modicum of gentility for a bit of luxury," he argued.

"Are you here to charm them into considering you genteel?"

"I have already accomplished that for the most part."

"Some of the young ladies here were inquiring for you," she whispered.

"No doubt, you were one of them."

Lady Tramel opened her mouth to say something aggravating, but closed it quickly and smiled contemptuously in his direction.

"Should I let them know you will disappoint them?"

"No, no, they can very well find out on their own. It would serve them right. So tell me, old dear, how have you been entertaining yourself?"

"Oh, you know, I was my usual quiet, unobtrusive self. Of course, I was heavily abused for it. They saw me silent and unpretending, so they thought I needed company. Many a stupid woman thought I was more than eager to gossip idly. But I resisted every attempt. Oh, but I found a terribly sweet and curious girl to talk with. She is such a sad, good little thing. You should see her. I daresay you danced with her once, if my memory serves me well."

"You mean to say Mary Bennet?" he asked, laughing.

"Yes, that one. She entertains me a great deal. She is like an odd duckling. Poor dear, I shall be sorry to see her go."

"Yes, she is an unfortunately insipid woman, but harmless nevertheless," he said. "I am surprised she entertains you."

"Oh, not consciously, you can imagine! But I quite like her. If only she were not a simple, plain Miss Bennet. She might do more. Of course, I have encouraged her..."

"You know you should not. Encouraging her would only increase her sense of inferiority."

"Financially, you mean?"

"Oh, anything but that. We can well call her a Darcy now, can't we?"

"Well, there was no danger in me encouraging her anyway, because she would hear nothing of it! She was indifferent to any piece of advice I gave her. She was not rude, mind you. But she showed a very phlegmatic, careless disposition."

"Young ladies that are preparing to be spinsters tend to adopt this character," he explained knowingly.

"Oh, I hope she does not have that idea in her head. A sedentary behaviour could be her downfall," she said, worriedly.

"Oh, I would not be very concerned on her behalf. You will see she is not so very indifferent," Phillip replied wily.

"What can you mean, Phillip?" Lady Tramel asked suspiciously.

"You will see at dinner," he only said, smiling secretively.

* * *

Little did Lady Tramel and Mr. Cosgrove know that Mary Bennet was in the adjacent room. There was no danger of her overhearing any of the things discussed, but she could at any moment, walk into the room and notice the elderly lady discussing passionately with the younger cad.

At present, she was sitting beside the pianoforte, listening to a young lady playing.

She had found herself, almost unwillingly, but secretly pleased, in the same room with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Her mother and sister Kitty were also there, but she did not mind.

The lively atmosphere of the room was heightened by the sweet afternoon light pervading through the heavy red, billowing curtains.

The fireplace was empty, and the room was pleasantly cool, but still warm enough for the ladies to dispose of their shawls safely.

When the young lady finished playing, a new girl rose and walked to the piano stool.

The Colonel coughed loudly and said something to the extent that the next song, he hoped, would be more cheerful.

And then as he surveyed the room, he saw Mary sitting next to the piano.

She was sipping from her small tumbler of wine. Her face looked ashen and tired. He gathered the walk must have been too much for her.

He did not entirely approve of her walking alone like that. If he had been her father, he might have said something about it.

But as he was not, he could only contemplate what he would say to her on the occasion.

His attention was demanded in his circle of conversation, however, and he left his musings from another time.

"Mary, dear, come join us here. You have a vast knowledge of books, don't you?" Mrs. Bennet called her.

"Yes, Mary do tell us," Kitty joined in. "The Colonel claims Dr. Johnson to be superior above all. But we rather like some playwrights from London as well."

Mary approached rather meekly and cleared her throat as if she was about to say many things.

But she only replied:

"Dr. Johnson is only considered superior now. In about thirty years, things shall take a new turn."

"A new turn, Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked interested.

"New talents will be discovered. New ways of writing. There will be innovations in literature. There are innovations every day."

"These innovations might be nothing but a storm in a teacup."

"Yes, but the important thing is that there will be new ideas and schools of thought," she replied in a high tone she usually employed when she read sermons. She used it in an attempt to make her point heard, but it only added ridicule to her sayings.

"So, you believe Dr. Johnson will fall into oblivion?"

"I never said that. He will always be a prized and beloved author. We will always benefit from his work. But he will not be chiefly regarded."

"And who will then? A playwright from London? Because I would rather not have so much innovation then."

"I can't know. Maybe it will be a novelist," she said, smiling slightly.

The Colonel remembered their previous argument on novels. He was about to open his mouth to continue the idea, but Kitty interrupted him with an entirely different matter. She began talking about the fashion in London.

Mary took another sip of wine and looked down at her feet.

He turned his back to her and was soon arrested by the conversation. She went to sit down by the empty fireplace. Men and women came in and out of the room, bringing in the hallway chills and the excitement of other, more populated rooms.

They came in smiling, they left bored. There was a constant movement about her.

But she sat still. Inertia was not a disease.

It was only a different perspective.

* * *

At dinner, she had the luck of finding Lady Tramel once more. She was sitting some chairs away, but Mary thought that as soon as the main course was over she could go sit with her.

An infernal, loud chattering was making it rather difficult for the two to converse across the table.

She noticed from the corner of her eye Phillip Cosgrove sitting down across from her.

He had an expectant expression on his face. He stopped one of the servants with one hand and whispered something to him in way of acknowledgement. The young boy nodded his head and assured him it was done.

So now, he waited in silence to see Mary Bennet's reaction.

The appetizers were eaten quickly by the hungry and boisterous group and not long afterwards (after some cheese and pudding) the main course was expected. The servants came in with steaming plates and silver trays.

Mary noticed from her neighbours that the dish served was lamb, rosemary and dried vegetables with a dressing of milk and vinegar.

She waited patiently for the servant to put down the same plate in front of her but when he did, she was surprised to see it was entirely different.

It was poultry, dipped in a red sauce. She addressed the servant disconcerted. He simply shrugged his shoulders and told her promptly:

"It is a gift from Mr. Cosgrove. He said you were very fond of blue jay meat."

Mary stared back perplexed at Phillip Cosgrove, who was having some difficulty in hiding his grin.

"I hope it will be to your liking, Miss Bennet. You told me yourself there is no pointing in shooting the poor things. And I promised I would have them fried, so that it wouldn't be all in vain."

He smiled almost benignly, his cruelty overshadowed by his candid expression.

"I see you took my words literally," she mumbled.

"I did," he said, taking a bite out of his lamb.

"I never did anything to you," she added.

"Did I ever allude you did? On the contrary, I wanted to repay your kindness."

Mary took her fork steadily and brought a piece to her mouth. She chewed on it for a good while before swallowing it.

She took another piece and continued, notwithstanding her great disgust. She dug her nails into her palms as she chewed piece after piece. She drank wine heavily.

Her complexion had a yellow hue to it now, but she was still moderately calm.

"By all means, if you cannot eat anymore, do not stress yourself," he said cynically.

"Oh, no, I am eating it all. If these poor things died, at least they should be eaten," she told him resentfully.

Phillip grinned in satisfaction as she emptied the plate entirely.

"I can tell them to bring you another helping of it, if you like," he added.

"Oh, no, thank you, that was quite enough," she said, gulping her wine down.

He was entirely pleased with himself. His contented expression looked predatory. He had managed to make her eat the meat and drink wine like a drunkard.

She was not so indifferent anymore, was she?

Yet there was something that was preventing him from enjoying his victory completely.

She had eaten her plate calmly and with no dissention, almost too willingly.

There was no evident corruption in her manner and her beliefs.

But it was hard to bewilder a pedant. They always acted like they were ready for everything.

He congratulated himself on tormenting her, even if it had been a momentary torment. She would remember it for a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello, dear readers, I am finally back with a new chapter for my story! It's been a while, I know, but writing characters like Phillip and Mary is actually pretty daunting. I did not spend every day writing, but I did think about them. And I wanted to make their characters, their gestures, their words as real as possible. Of course, I didn't really get there. Instead I got this chapter which is alright, for now. _

_I'd like to thank all my amazing reviewers for all your thoughtful reviews and to the anonymous reviewers as well for their helpful and encouraging input:) Also, thanks to readers for keeping up with the story._

_As for the common question : Why is Mary always picked on? Well, the question is, why is Phillip Cosgrove picking on people to begin with?_

_Hopefully, I will shed some light in this chapter._

_Have a happy reading!_

* * *

Mr. Cosgrove always derived joy from someone else's misery. For him it was a balm like no other to see others suffer on his account. It was not the suffering that pleased him, because he, like all men, ran away from pain, but rather, he relished in seeing those that were suffering reveal their true character. He liked to see men crumble slowly under the pressure of misery and succumb to their weaknesses and in so doing, unveil their precariously foiled natures.

Everyone who was acquainted with him made sure never to ask him for help or for a piece of advice, because he took too much pleasure from their need.

And if people did ask for his services, they did so only when they were confident enough; that is to say, only strong people asked for his help, people who did not really need an important service.

Phillip gladly helped anyone who was willing enough to cry and wail in front of him. You could always count on him; that is if you debased yourself first.

This perverse desire to witness the despair of his kind had been the reason for which he and his remaining family were no longer on speaking terms.

He received letters from one of his cousins, informing him of who had died and who had been born, but he only read them and never replied back. He occasionally sent gifts for the young children or a wreath of flowers for a dead one.

He did not regret being the way he was, because he had understood, from a young age that he could never aspire to be a good, wholesome young man, with a steady mind and a kind heart. It was not the way for him. It was a path of nuisance and ennui. And it was also a path of hypocrisy. When you have evil in your bosom, be it latent evil or active evil, you don't wish to keep it hidden, repressed and sobered. It would only make you more miserable.

So he chose to be a worldly person without having anything in common with the world.

He did like to drink good wine, supper on good foods and read well-written books, just like everyone else, but he couldn't stand anything else.

He was successful in appearing moderately average for a while, but then he'd always make a blunder or say something meaningful that would quickly dispel any sort of agreement that he was a gentleman or an honest man.

He liked behaving in a disagreeable way, so he did behave in a disagreeable way.

But sometimes, his acrid and pestilent remarks did not draw away everyone. There were some curious men that liked him well enough to invite him everywhere, because he always had something intelligent to say. There were also men who liked his bluntness and aspired to do the same.

And then there were those who liked him solely for his money (the majority) and they quickly scattered when once a year he was in the red.

The last were the ladies who either found him repulsive or attractive. The first category is not hard to describe. Ladies were easily offended by anyone that had more audacity than they did. But the others, who found him pleasing, did so only because he teased them or mocked them. His injurious speech was flattering to them because it meant he had paid attention to them, he had noticed them and had singled them out on purpose, even if he did so only to entertain himself and make a foolery out of them. Phillip's true intentions went unnoticed to them. They did not perceive that he was not insulting them in a playful manner that would imply an admirer. _Qui se taquine, s'aime_ did not apply here. He meant every word he said. But they had no idea of that and they never would.

Therefore, for the most part, Phillip Cosgrove came across as an impetuous, intelligent, headstrong youth with too much time on his hands and with a tendency to dislike society.

That was all. That much could have been said about Mr. Darcy as well, two or three years ago.

So Mr. Cosgrove was, in fact, a dangerous man, because he could blend in easily and still set everyone else apart.

One lady he had not managed to repel was Lady Tramel. Had she been younger, the thing could have been done easily. But since she was old and more experience and since she had already tried many men in her time, of all characters and vices, she could now appreciate the demanding company of one who was the embodiment of all those vices and characters.

Lady Tramel admired him not only for his "sinfulness" but also for his active mind. She always complained that her late husband had been a wet blanket with no practical views.

To her mind, Phillip, who was all pragmatism and sharpness, would have made her a good match. But now that she was an elderly woman, she sought the chance to be his friend at least, if not his consort.

As for Mr. Cosgrove, at first he did not think much of her. For a while, he considered her a trying nuisance. She seemed like all those old rich ladies, filled with memories and regrets.

After he got better acquainted with her, however, he noticed she shared some of his ideas and feelings. Not only that, but she could understand him better than some other more educated ladies. He began to find her company pleasant, if not amiable.

He found in her the mother and the sister that had rejected him.

At times, he liked to mock her because he knew she was very fond of him and he enjoyed twisting the knife in her wound, reminding her of the age difference and alluding to those great days when she was young and she could have been his.

But as a rule, they liked to keep each other company when there was nothing else to do.

If he got tired of her, he never told her.

They always found each other at different social events and the Darcy wedding was no different. They had found each other again and they were bent on spending their time together.

The only slight change now was that Lady Tramel had found a female companion as well. And no man can replace a female friend, no matter how hard he tries. There are certain matters that only women know how to discuss and there is always need for a woman heart when another one is suffering.

Not only that, but Mary Bennet needed instruction and Lady Tramel thought she should be the one to give it. She would enjoy being considered a spiritual mentor. Every woman likes to have a child to raise and she was no different.

Phillip did not take his friend's preference seriously though.

He had sat opposite Mary Bennet all throughout dinner and she had placidly eaten the punishment he had given her without a single comment. She was not a charming girl. Nor was she very pretty. Her looks did not recommend her, nor did her disposition. She was not sweet and gentle. She was sour and coarse. So her serious, blank gaze was only more punctuated by a crease at the forehead or a bitter smile at the corner of her lips.

He honestly could not see why Lady Tramel would take an interest in her.

And this, ironically, made him interested in her. He always liked to have a project on his mind. Wherever he went, he liked to single out certain people and make them feel out of place. Only then did he feel comfortable.

So after dinner, when the parties dispersed again, he followed Lady Tramel and Mary into one of the drawing rooms.

Lady Tramel excused herself to go fetch her shawl and so could not be present at the following conversation between the two.

'I do hope the dinner was to your taste, Miss Bennet,' he told her.

'It could have been better. I would have enjoyed the lamb more, but the poultry was good enough.'

'Well, I was truly impressed by what you said this morning. I thought to myself, she must be right, no bird should sacrifice itself in vain. They should die for a better purpose. Our pleasure,' he said, taking a sip of his gin.

Mary gazed at him surreptitiously.

'I actually meant that one should hunt only when one is in need of food, but your hedonistic view does make a point. I guess all that we take and kill is, indirectly, for our pleasure.'

Phillip nodded his head and smiled.

He mentally scribbled Mary's name on the list of women who found his machinations charming.

'You tend to agree with me too much,' he told her.

'No, it's not that. It's just that, I have one way of thinking and you have another. And I like to try your way too because mine might be incomplete or faulty. This way, I am open to new ideas.'

Phillip raised an eyebrow surprised.

'And if, after this little experiment, you discover my way a wrong one?'

'Well, I still keep it in my head because no way of thinking is useless,' she told him serenely.

'That could be an excuse for hypocrisy, you know.'

'Well, no, because I do not adopt two things at the same time, I just think more things,' she told him.

'You must find that very clever of you. But, truth be told, you tend to use it as a defense strategy, so you are never in dangerous territory. You are always sitting on the fence, therefore, you can never offend anybody or attract any sort of disapprobation. The intellectual pretext of finding new ideas is just a means of hiding the true purpose.'

'Maybe you are in the right, maybe I do use it as a shield sometimes. Instead of engaging into strong and useless arguments, I choose to avoid them all together. So I spend more time doing what I wish to do. But I also think your way of always putting people down is also a defense strategy. They know what to expect of you and they can never retaliate,' Mary told him.

Phillip raised an eyebrow in surprise. He began to see why Lady Tramel found her amusing.

'If I were really trying to defend myself, Miss Bennet, I would put people down without them knowing,' he told her. 'But following your judgement, you claim that the art of conversation cannot improve your mind and only solitary thought can do that. You take people's ideas and instead of discussing them you simply steal them.'

'Well, discussions in our society are just silly sometimes,' she answered blandly, not knowing exactly how to explain herself. 'I'd rather not get into them too many times. Although I do like to talk.'

'Then how do you satisfy the pleasure of talking?'

'I talk to myself mostly,' she said smiling insecurely and nodding her head.

'How is that going for you?'

'Good,' she replied simply.

'I imagine it must be quite stupid. I mean to say, you talk to yourself because you find no purpose in talking to anyone else,' he told her.

'I do find purpose, I just don't like it all the time. If you knew my family, you would understand,' she replied, smiling, although she felt hurt.

'I know your sisters, a little, I believe. Famed Hertfordshire beauties. Elizabeth Darcy I need not mention. She is, after all, the reason why we are all here.'

'I thought that was Mr. Darcy.'

'Oh, no, large gatherings like these are always about a particular woman,' he told her.

'So you like my sister, Elizabeth?'

'I can't say I know her character, but from what I have seen and heard I find her an admirable consort for Darcy. She looks like she would make him a good match.'

'Really? None of us thought of that before we heard about the wedding.'

'Come now; she was the only young woman to challenge Darcy's stiff brow in a long time. If there is a lovely face attached too, men fall for it like horses to sugar.'

'I guess you are right. Mr. Darcy must have liked being denied his privileges for once. It must have been refreshing,' Mary replied.

Phillip raised another eyebrow.

'What would you know about his privileges?'

'I just know he is very fond of them,' Mary said smiling.

Phillip decided to remain quiet on that particular subject. He had nothing else to add. So he moved the conversation to a different corner.

'Your other sisters, have they found husbands?'

'Only my youngest and my eldest,' Mary replied. 'You might know about Lydia and Captain Wickham. And Jane and Mr. Bingley of course.'

'Yes, I think I've heard of the disastrous affair. Give them three months and the two will be miserable with each other, unless they already are,' he said. Mary waited for him to specify the couple he was referring to, but he did not.

She started looking around the room impatiently. She would have wanted to leave him and find Lady Tramel or maybe even catch the Colonel's eye.

It came as a surprise to her, then, that just as she was looking about her, the Colonel and Kitty entered the room together.

'Your sister Katherine doesn't waste any time,' Phillip told her. 'She is quite something to gaze at. If she were intelligent, of which I am in serious doubt, she would take advantage of that. But she won't. I guess you hope the brevity of her mind will drive the Colonel away.'

'Indeed, I don't and will never hope that. I love my sister, I don't wish her any harm,' Mary told him sternly.

'Yes, you'd have to say you love her and wish her well, because the social and biological connection renders you incapable of saying anything else. But women will always resent each other over men, regardless of blood.'

'I am not obliged by the blood we share. I love her well enough, even though sometimes I can barely stand her. I don't love my mother, for example. And I should be obliged to, according to your theory.'

'Are you saying that just to prove something to me?'

'No, I mean it. Women might be dreadful to each other all the time, but I really do love my sister and dislike my mother,' Mary told him calmly.

Phillip had to hide an amused smile. No wonder Lady Tramel was so pleased with her. The girl was inadvertently original. She was an original pedant. A paradox which was conveniently interesting.

'Since you insist so much on telling me you love her, let us put it to the test,' he said.

He turned to the Colonel and called for him.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had incidentally noticed Phillip before he had called him and he had done his best not to look his way.

It is obvious he did not like his company very much. In fact, he found Mr. Cosgrove a bit too coloured for his taste.

They walked through the same social circles, but they rarely exchanged pleasantries. Colonel Fitzwilliam had taken great exception with him once when Phillip had told him bluntly that he was a perverse old man for vying for his petite cousin, Georgiana Darcy, who, to his mind, was a very sensitive and dull child. This was before the wicked Wickham affair.

No one knew or suspected that Colonel Fitzwilliam did have some secret feelings for his young cousin, but Mr. Cosgrove, as always, had taken care to notice the little inadequacies the Colonel presented when he was faced with Miss Darcy.

Yesterday evening, when the Colonel had seen him hand in hand with Georgiana, he had felt upset and had feared he would bring up the subject again.

Nevertheless, he did not pretend to ignore Phillip Cosgrove when he was called because it would have been far too rude of him and Miss Kitty Bennet would have gotten the wrong ideas.

'Good evening, old chap, I see you are once again idling away with a Miss Bennet,' Phillip greeted him.

'Mr. Cosgrove, Miss Bennet,' the Colonel said bowing to him and Mary. 'I see, Mr. Cosgrove you are in the company of a Bennet too.'

'Yes, the country is full of them, isn't it? One is never in want.'

'I wouldn't consider the other Bennets as lovely as _ours_,' the Colonel replied.

'Ours? They're certainly not mine, Colonel. That is a funny way of putting it.'

'I only meant to compliment the ladies. But I suppose no compliment is needed. We all know their superiority,' the Colonel reiterated.

'Yes, yes, I've noticed each sister has something recommendable. Miss Mary Bennet here has a very stout intellect,' Phillip said lightly, in a tone that meant to mock rather than commend. 'Just now, we were talking about the Rambler and your articles, Colonel.'

Colonel Fitzwilliam suddenly averted his gaze towards Mary, a sparkle of interest in his eyes.

He looked very surprised.

'You have read them, Miss Bennet?'

Mary looked from Mr. Cosrgrove to the Colonel with an angry and shocked expression on her face. Her hands were tied, literally. She could not, in her admiration, deny the Colonel the pleasure of having a reader, especially since his articles had been published in a good sort of paper, but at the same time, she could not play along with Phillip Cosgrove's game, because the ruse, though cleverly set, was not one she could master, her not knowing anything about his articles preventing her from any sort of response.

After a very awkward pause, in which the Colonel waited patiently and Kitty looked around the room for anyone she might know, sighing from time to time, Mary finally nodded her head and opened her mouth.

'Indeed, I have…looked over them. But I haven't had the chance to peruse them thoroughly,' she answered, breathing in deeply.

'And…how did you find them?' the Colonel asked. 'I must say I put a great deal of effort into the style, so it would be simple and clear, but at the same time, nuanced and rich in meaning.'

'Yes, I noticed the style flowed very well with the ideas and I particularly liked the turns of phrases,' Mary babbled, looking all the time at his shoes.

'And the ideas, did they suit you?'

'Oh, yes, I found myself agreeing to most of them.'

'Did you really? I am a bit surprised, but pleasantly so. I knew you were such a strong adept of the novel. I would think you would disagree with my opinions on it.'

Phillip Cosgrove had turned his head away in order to laugh in silence.

'Oh!' Mary exclaimed, her entire face turning as red as beet root.

'Y-yes, well, occasionally… I, I tend to agree, I mean to say, I still believe in the novel, but your ideas were so fine that, I…I found myself approving,' she stuttered, trying very hard to cover her cheeks with her hands. She was not doing a very good job at that.

The Colonel had noticed her fluster.

'You don't need to feel awkward about it, Miss Bennet. Every young girl of your age likes novels. But it is highly remarkable that you can accept a different point of view once in a while,' the Colonel said kindly.

'Yes, indeed, how right you speak, Colonel. Miss Bennet herself was telling me just some moments ago how she always treasures different points of view and never disapproves of any way of thinking. She is a very liberal girl, I think you would agree,' Phillip Cosgrove commented.

Mary could not believe that this man was using her previous theory as means to discredit her.

'Yes, I would,' the Colonel said, smiling gallantly.

'I have never heard Mary speak about that, or your articles,' Kitty remarked in a bored fashion.

'Oh, but where are our manners? We have been ignoring this celestial nymph, standing right beside us,' Mr. Cosgrove said, kissing Kitty's hand softly. When his lips touched her warm hand though, Kitty was sure she felt the slight gnawing of his teeth. The next moment she had recovered her hand and there was no sign of it. She thought she had imagined it.

'Oh, don't worry about me, I am just a good listener. I am used to Mary,' Kitty said, waving her hand.

'Miss Bennet has told me a great deal about you,' Phillip began in a casual tone. 'Why just now, when she saw you and the Colonel stroll into the room, she remarked to me how well you two look together and how beautiful you look next to a man like the Colonel.'

Kitty's entire face lit up as she blushed profusely and sneaked a glance at the Colonel. She shook her head and laughed.

'Oh, Mary, did you really say such _awful_ things?' Kitty asked, delight pouring out of her every word.

Mary felt completely helpless. She had listened in horror as Phillip Cosgrove had slandered the Colonel's opinion of her and her chances with him and now she was letting him add one more injury to the already bleeding wound. Her pride was tumbling down the stairs of the Pemberley estate.

And yet, all she could do was watch and listen in awe. It was like a train wreck. She could not look away.

'I didn't say it in those words…' Mary countered, holding her hands back as she stuck one of her nails inside her palm until she felt a small laceration.

'I was just being silly, you know me,' she explained.

'Oh, yes, I know _dear_ Mary,' Kitty said fondly. 'When Mrs. Prichard, the widow who lives on Plinney Street, befriended that poor farmer outside of Meryton, she made such a fuss about it, about how those two are so very good for one another. All silly trifles of course, but she loves imagining things.'

'Well, do not keep us in suspense, did the two glorious figures ever marry, as she predicted?' Mr. Cosgrove asked.

'Oh, of course not! They were seen coming to church together once – well, the farmer, I think George was his name, had offered to take Mrs. Prichard with his old chaise and she accepted of course. But nothing came out of it. Mrs. Prichard moved to Exeter to live with her cousin,' Kitty explained.

'She had to move because the town was gossiping too much about her,' Mary suddenly said. 'It wasn't her decision. She was made to.'

'Oh, nonsense! No one is ever made to do anything!' Kitty retorted. 'They can't make the poor woman leave.'

'You would be surprised,' Mary replied dryly.

'In any case, I think we've learnt two very important things tonight; that Mary Bennet is a romantic and that Miss Kitty and the Colonel look fine together,' Mr. Cosgrove concluded, taking out his cigarette case.

'A very informative night then,' Kitty said merrily as she eyed the cigarette case eagerly.

'It looks very pretty,' she remarked.

Phillip took out a cigarette and shut it with a click. He smirked.

'I stole it from an Indian sergeant. He had stolen it from someone else, no doubt,' he replied nonchalantly.

'Oh, how strange! It must have some value,' Kitty said, looking at the silver dashes, tracing the rims.

'Yes, it must. But what's valuable is what's inside.'

'Oh, I would keep it only for the box, not the cigarettes,' Kitty said wrinkling her nose.

'The fair sex tends to like the package more than the contents,' he said. 'There's no shame in that.'

'Indeed, women are aesthetes,' the Colonel agreed, trying to divert the conversation.

In the adjacent room, the band had started playing a reel. Kitty looked over her shoulder and giggled to herself.

'Look at everyone rushing to dance! It's the last night at Pemberley! You'd think they'd want to savour the crystal glasses of champagne!'

'Oh, come now, Miss Bennet, I am sure you want to dance as well,' the Colonel said, chuckling.

'What are crystals to fine music and good dancing?' she asked, rolling her eyes.

'Shall we join them, Miss Bennet?'

'If my sister and Mr. Cosgrove will excuse us,' she said, smiling courteously.

The couple made its way through the throng of young people and was out of sight sooner than they had paid their goodbyes.

As soon as they were gone, Mary turned around and started walking very fast towards the doors.

Mr. Cosgrove followed her.

'I don't know what sad childhood you must have had, or how boring and uneventful your life must be that you need to make other people feel miserable, but I don't wish to hear it,' Mary began, her cheeks turning whiter than usual.

'Oh, please don't act like you had nothing to do with it. All I did was show you what I think. You said you wanted to try my way of thinking.'

'And your way of thinking implies making me look like a fool?'

'It's a risk you have to take in this world. If you have the potential to be a fool, sooner or later, you will be shown as the fool that you are.'

'We have a very different understanding of this adjective,' Mary told him.

'Yes, yes, you prefer being an honest fool to a low-life scum like me. I know the speech. But in all earnest now, wouldn't you like to tell your sister, at least once, that she is a darling idiot?'

Mary stopped for a moment and stared him in the eye.

'Where would the pleasure in that be?'

'You can't seriously pretend you would not enjoy that. Any living man on this planet loves preying on others.'

'Until they become the prey itself. No, I don't think I would want that,' Mary said stiffly.

After a pause in which Mary waited for three young girls to pass, Phillip Cosgrove asked her:

'Was Mrs. Prichard really made to leave?'

'Yes,' Mary said without hesitance.

'Had she slept with the farmer?' he asked bluntly.

Mary looked around, frightened someone had possibly heard him.

'Keep your voice down! I don't know. All I know is that they made her leave, with their poisonous talking and teasing.'

'She turned into a prey. And you sympathize with her. Because you see yourself as a prey as well.'

'I don't…'

'You should feel repulsed,' he said.

'Why? Because she might have liked him?' Mary asked, louder than she had hoped.

'No. Because she gave him up just because some buffoons told her to,' he said laughing coldly.

Mary opened her mouth. She closed it quickly. He was right. She swallowed.

'In the end, she is just as disgusting as a harlot,' he added.

'You don't understand how hard it can be for a woman. Men can live without a good reputation.'

'And women are too weak to live without it. Show me a woman that has withstood this and not given in. Then I'll redeem your sex.'

'You don't want to redeem any sex,' Mary said finally. 'You are, most likely, disappointed in _everyone_. That's fair enough.'

Phillip Cosgrove sighed and gazed at her in pity.

'You'd rather drop the argument than be loyal to your sex. That's a shame.'

'The argument is useless anyway. I would never convince you.'

'An argument isn't always about winning.'

'Isn't it? No one argues for any other purpose. Not here anyways,' she said pointing at the crowd.

'If you are so sick of conversation in our society, then why don't you abandon it altogether?'

'Abandon society? I would if I could.'

'It's very easy. In your case, you could 'get thee to a nunnery.'

'It's too bad I'm not Ophelia,' Mary said between her teeth.

At that moment, Lady Tramel stepped through the doors and joined Mr. Cosgrove, at which point, Mary conveniently snuck out and disappeared in the other rooms.

'Oh, dear, where is Mary Bennet? Have you scared her off already Phillip?' Lady Tramel asked him sharply.

He lit his cigarette and blew some smoke away.

'No, she ran away on her own accord,' he said.

'Did you make her feel miserable? Because I won't have it! I hope you know that.'

'She could have been more miserable. No, she was just a little sad,' he said more to himself, staring at the wooden floor, as Lady Tramel started talking to a lady nearby.

'I hate it when people are just a little sad,' he said after a while, again to himself.

* * *

In the adjacent room, the Colonel and Kitty were dancing their second dance together after they had switched partners.

After many lines of dialogue they exchanged that need not be exposed here, the Colonel chanced to ask Kitty.

'Do you think, Miss Bennet, that the widow you mentioned and the farmer…do you think their union would not have been accepted by the town? I mean to say, it's only a country town. Don't they tend to exaggerate their importance a bit too much? After all, many unceremonious things do happen in country towns.'

Kitty threw him an unsettling look and squeezed his hand tighter.

'My dear Colonel, I am sure you do not really mean it! Why, only a country town! Meryton is a very good sort of town and it has an exemplary society. We don't need any tramps and trouble-makers around us, do we? Otherwise, we would be like _those_ country towns you just mentioned!'

The Colonel made a face as if something was stinging his eye.

* * *

Mary sat down on her bed that evening and started laughing. A terrible laugh. A laugh from the inside of her heart. She thought she would never stop.

For a moment, she had pictured, sitting down demurely on her crisp bed, she had pictured calling Kitty an idiot and then smiling proudly in her face.

She laughed so hard she fell down on the bed.

With tears of laughter in her eyes, she said:

'Mrs. Prichard was strong. She was the one that decided to leave town. Because even with George by her side, she would have never been happy there.'

She sighed. She regretted not having told Phillip Cosgrove what she had thought.

But then she hid her head in her pillow when she recalled what she had said to the Colonel about his articles.

When the laughter subsided, she felt she loved Kitty even more now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! I found time to publish my new chapter which I hope you will all read and enjoy. It is more of a study in character, with a somewhat unexpected conclusion (which you will discover soon!). I can't begin thanking you enough for your wonderful reviews. Thanks a lot anonymous reviewers, I am very flattered you the way I write Mary and Mr. Cosgrove. :) **

**Please let me know what you think of this one as well. **

* * *

The next morning, which was a sunny August 27, 1813, was gloomy for some of the Bennets, because they were bound to leave Pemberley and with it, Derbyshire. That meant saying goodbye to luxury, wealth, good breadth and high society and returning to the quiet monotony of a country house in a country neighbourhood where guests were sparse and common sense even sparser.

The one Bennet creature that showed kinder sentiments towards their departure was one Mary Bennet who, after being persecuted in the midst of this intolerant society, was glad to leave it all behind, (especially her fancy for Colonel Fitzwilliam, fancy which had become a sort of nuisance), and pretend that none of it ever happened.

The girl was already planning ahead of time what she would do when she arrived at Longbourn. She envisioned with great pleasure the way she would run upstairs to her room, drop her luggage on the floor and sink into her small, but soft bed. Then she would take off her formal wear and get under the covers or find a good chair by the window with a book in her lap or some personal writing. At noon, Betsy would bring her a cup of tea or milk and she would need nothing else in the world.

Mary was, at core, a little bourgeois. She liked to have her material comforts already settled for her, so she wouldn't busy herself with them. She didn't like to make a particular effort to obtain her comfort. She wasn't one to confess, but she would have sorely missed her current income and the little luxuries she was used to. To others, such as Darcy or Bingley, those small luxuries, were mere necessities, something without which they couldn't do. But for her they were additional pleasures required for her to fully immerse herself in what she took _serious_ pleasure. In other words, if somehow someone in this world could cook and wash for her and maybe do her hair and she would do nothing but read and study and take walks all day, she would be the happiest person alive.

She already had this at Longbourn. There were times when she had to help with the sewing or knitting, because it was required of a young lady. She had to know how to embroider a cushion, no matter how many times she would prick her finger. Her mother told her it was the least she could do to improve her manual skills. Also, she was made to feed the chicken from time to time, as a form of punishment for upsetting her mother.

But usually these little inconveniences were just that; little. Nothing of a grander scale was ever imposed on her. She had never had to cook a meal in her entire life and she would most likely put everyone in danger if she was made to light the fireplace (therefore, no one made her do it in the first place).

On the other hand, her sister Kitty mysteriously knew how to do a good part of these chores. Mary didn't know how or when she had learnt, but Kitty was much more skilled at stirring the fire or helping in the kitchen.

Kitty had told her all it took was some good will. In other words, if Mary was just willing to learn, then everything would turn out for the best. Women, she said, had a calling for these things and it came natural to them to cook and mend and take care of the household. All they needed to do was show willingness.

But Mary, in her stubbornness, decreed that if someone other than herself could do all these things for her, then there was no use in taking pains to do it herself. That was what servants were for.

So, as you can see, Mr. Cosgrove was wrong. Miss Mary wasn't a very liberal girl.

When her mother warned her that her life might not afford her a servant in the future, Mary always answers:  
'If it ever comes to that, I will find a way to do some things on my own. Until then, what is the use of worrying?'

And Mary did not worry. She liked having Betsy around. She was a good friend to her. She always gave Betsy her spare money to buy herself new dresses. And she treated her like a second mother, or an elder sister, someone that was in the position to take care of her.

Betsy was very happy with Mary Bennet as well, because Mary Bennet showed her respect.

But Mary herself was not aware that the respect she showed Betsy was conditioned by her being taken care of. If Betsy suddenly stopped taking care of her properly, Mary Bennet would stop being friendly to her.

But it had never come to that, so Mary couldn't know that she would behave in that way. That is why she rightfully said she could not know herself yet.

And Miss Mary Bennet would, indeed, never know this side of her, because till the end, Betsy was always polite and caring.

But now let us return to the sunny and gloomy August morning. Elizabeth Darcy, the new mistress of Pemberley was very teary and sad when she said goodbye to her family, which is why she begged them to write every week, if possible, and send news about the house and the neighbours.

'I even want to know how the pigs are doing, only write! And you must all come for Christmas!' she told them.

Mr. Darcy agreed to all her plans and expressed his regret at not having them at Pemberley for a longer period of time. Regret which was only partially felt. In truth, he was relieved to see them leave. He yearned to be alone with his wife. And he did not much appreciate Mrs. Bennet's chatty nature or Mr. Bennet's taciturn one. Nor did he particularly enjoy being assaulted in the hallways by the Bennet sisters with inopportune questions.

But Elizabeth was miserable, so he had to act miserable too.

Other guests that were also parting were equally sad to see them leave. The Colonel was torn between paying his adieus to Kitty or Mary Bennet. He would have wanted to part with both of them, but he feared that Kitty Bennet might become jealous or upset if he chose to talk with her other sister separately. So he wished to both of them a good journey and asked Mr. Bennet to write on their behalf.

He said he would very much like to know if they could come to Pemberley at Christmas and hoped to hear from them soon. He said all this very precipitately, as if he was afraid of coming off as overly eager and enthusiastic. But he was keen on seeing them again, particularly Miss Kitty Bennet, for she was beautiful, charming, witty and lively. There was something appealing about Mary Bennet as well. He wished he knew what it was. He had been thinking about it for some time, but he still hadn't reached a conclusion. He thought it must be the fact that she was cultured and read. Or maybe the fact that she had disagreed with him, which tends to make every man look on the woman in case with a modicum of respect and interest. Mr. Darcy had liked the fact that Elizabeth opposed his views.

But he was not sure _he_ enjoyed that very much. Of course he liked women who had their own mind and he was an open-minded man himself which meant he did not like to offend the fair sex by belittling it. But he was not entirely sure whether a woman that always defied him would make for an agreeable partner. At one point they would have to agree.

So then, what was it about the girl that drew him in, if only a little?

He couldn't know, because you see he does not read minds, but Mr. Phillip Cosgrove had the answer for him. Mr. Cosgrove had thought about it the previous night. He had seen that the Colonel was not entirely devoid of any inclination towards Mary Bennet.

He was a quick observer of human nature. He treasured the belief that most of his intuitions were correct. This was a faulty belief but since, unfortunately, most of his intuitions had thus far proved to be correct, there was no way of him knowing he was actually in the wrong.

So he had drawn the conclusion that the Colonel had a small fancy for Mary Bennet, not because she was intelligent or well-bred, but because she was, as most of you have noticed, plain.

He surmised that most men choose partners differently. But all men had something in common: they wanted their partners to be one of a kind. There are few men who will settle for something less.

So then, what do plain girls do in the world if men are so choosy? There is hope for them, because men, who will not appreciate their minds or characters, will appreciate the one thing they consider to be their downfall; their plainness.

Simply put, there was no danger of someone loving Mary Bennet. There wouldn't be many contenders for her hand. That is why a man felt safe in choosing her because, not only would the woman look up to him and idealize him for his perfection, for his infinite goodness (having received attention from no one else before, some women, if not most, tend to glorify the first man in their path), but also because there was no competition. He had nothing to worry about. He did not have to make a special effort to win her heart, or to prove to her that he was the best suitor, the best provider, the best hypothetical father of her children. She would accept him gladly. Ironically, he could finally be himself around this woman.

There was also, beyond the comforts of being treated like a superior creature and loved like one, the respect he would receive from _others_. Society would admire him for loving a girl that no one else loved. They would find him profound. He had seen something in her that others had not. He had taken pains to judge her character and not her apparel. And therein lay the key; she was special to him, because no one else loved her, only he. He who had made an effort to see past her appearance.

Last but not least, he would have security. If comfort and self-indulgence were already a given, he would have no worries regarding the loyalty of his wife. He knew he could trust this woman to love only him and obey him only. She would be so grateful, so astounded by his superior qualities, that she would truly adore him, in every possible way. And then he would not have to feel the common danger that many men feel: that another man could persuade her to change her inclinations. These sorts of things were treasured by men. And they were underestimated by women.

Now, of course, _he_ would have the right to pursue other handsomer ladies, if he so chose, because that is the real beauty of plain girls. They enable good men to have good households and beautiful women, all at once. The impossible is thus achieved.

And who was the Colonel but a poor victim of fate? He had met a plain girl, by accident, and he had inadvertently realized the many advantages of marrying her.

What was he supposed to do? He was just a man.

That is what Mr. Cosgrove thought of the Colonel. And he was generally correct. That is why he was very amused by this character. Because no matter how much the Colonel strove to keep up the appearance of a moral man, in his visceral mind he still acted on his best interests.

So there was a good chance that Miss Mary could marry him. And poor Kitty Bennet, who could aspire to be his real love, would be left behind.

But such is life. Beauty and plainness; what are they to a good home and a warm bed?

However, the Colonel was ignorant to these matters, so we shouldn't bother to inspect his mind any further.

Now, Phillip Cosgrove believed Mary Bennet would be quite happy with the Colonel, regardless of the fact that he would take advantage of her love and esteem. She would still blindly cling to him and blindly love him. Her happiness would be so complete that it would need nothing else. The Colonel would let her occupy herself with her books and studying and he would only bother her with matrimonial affairs. In exchange, she would have him by her side and all the comfort she wanted.

And when Mr. Cosgrove realized just how happy they would be, each in their own way, he felt only respite and loathing for men in general. He would feel disgust to know that men and women could be so happy in such abysmal conditions, that they could empty their minds of reason and fondly sink themselves in the comfort of a peaceful and desolate life.

But for centuries men and women have signed this unwritten pact between them and it has bothered no one. When, at the unripe age of fifteen, he understood this sinister and unavoidable side of life, he fell into great despair, despair which he overcame by giving himself a purpose; and that was being altogether _worse_. If the world in its entirety was so absurdly filthy, then he would be tenfold filthier. If the world was bent on being perverse, he would strive to be even more so. If the world sought to debase itself until nothing was left, he would be that nothing.

He thought it was the only way to defeat it.

He had once again been given proof he was right. The only way for him to remain sane was to make the world insane.

He did not know (just like the Colonel did not know other things) that many men before him had tried this and had failed. He would be another lost cause. Or would he?

As the small carriage of the Bennet family was pulled out of Pemberley Park, one lady held her handkerchief high in the air to bid them goodbye. It was Lady Tramel. She would miss Mary sorely.

Later in the afternoon, when Mr. Cosgrove and Lady Tramel met at tea, the latter looked a little distraught.

'And what is the matter with you, old girl?' Phillip asked.

'Oh, don't tease me now. I am feeling under the weather. My favourite guest has left. Now who will I talk to? I had such entertaining conversations with her. Oh, I wish she lived with me.'

'Come now, you've known her for two days. You will forget about her,' Phillip assured her.

'Oh, it may be so. I hope so. But you know how it is with me; when I take a fancy to someone, I can never get them out of my head. Something about her will stick with me for a long time.'

Mr. Cosgrove found this to be interesting. He wondered how he could fulfil his friend's wish and also make sure that neither Colonel Fitzwilliam nor Mary Bennet achieved that dreaded happiness I have been telling you about.

* * *

The first thing he did after making his decision was go see Mr. Darcy. He knew it was important to let him know in advance.

'I wish to marry Miss Mary Bennet. I will make an offer to her soon. I wanted to let you know so that you did not feel obliged as a husband to her sister, to provide for her.'

It is pointless to describe Mr. Darcy's reaction. It also pointless to write down the many questions he asked Mr. Cosgrove. Safe to say, it is the same reaction and questions that you as readers would have.

After this small inconvenience was out of the way, he set for Hertfordshire.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi, everyone, I know it's an unexpected update but I had some time on my hands so I decided to write on my favourite story. I hope you like the new chapter, it's an interlude of some sorts, we get some things settled and Mr. Cosgrove in Hertfordshire:) Thanks a bunch for all your insightful and consistent reviews, they helped me a lot with inspiration and ideas. Anonymous reviewers you rock! **

**Anyways back to the story now. Don't be too hard on Cosgrove and I'm curious to know what you think of the Colonel in this one. **

* * *

It had been a year since Netherfield Park of Hertfordshire had been let to newcomer, Charles Bingley and everyone around those parts had started thinking of the place with fondness and respect, as if it was their own historical monument, a standing proof that the most handsome and accomplished girls of their acquaintances had made their neighbourhood proud, had honoured it by connecting it with some of the most reputable families in Southern England.

No one minded the Anglo-Saxon prayer temple found in Merryton some decades ago. Not anymore. Not since something of equal if not tenfold value had found its home among them.

Some of the more fanatic families made sure to visit it at least once a month, on a Sunday, after church. They walked through the grounds, took in the sights and even made it as far as the terraces, as if Netherfield Park was _their_ personal Park.

By now, men and women alike had gotten used to the idea that the Park would remain empty, that it would be a sanctuary, a preserved monument with a rich history, and not an inhabited house.

Therefore, you can imagine the look on everyone's faces when news came around that Netherfield Park was to be let, _again_.

And just like last year, Mrs. Bennet strutted into Mr. Bennet's study intent on giving him the news in the same unaffected fashion as the previous time. Except now, it did not hold the same excitement for her as it used to, because she thought that whoever came, they could never surpass their previous guests, so half of the surprise with which she would normally render the news was lost.

Therefore, when she did make the announcement, Mr. Bennet felt a certain kind of reservation in her tone.

'It's the strangest thing, my dear, but Netherfield Park has been let, yet _again_! And only a year has passed. Could it be that fate has come to take my other girls away?'

'My dear, I am quite sure Lady Fortuna has more important engagements to attend to than procuring husbands for Kitty and Mary,' Mr. Bennet said, turning another page in his book.

'Oh, you're always such a pessimist. You think we never have a chance, even if I have proved you wrong, countless times. This could be yet another good opportunity for our girls, don't you see? Though I admit I am curious, because Mrs. Lucas herself has said that she isn't at all familiar with the new resident and Mr. Lucas wouldn't tell her, but I am sure it must be a gentleman, or more!'

'Finally, I hear some good news. Mr. Lucas has decided not to impart all knowledge with his wife anymore. A wise and wholesome decision.'

'Mr. Bennet! You do not think that! Certainly, she is entitled to know just as much as he! Now, what I would like you to do is to go see Mr. Lucas yourself and bring us back reports on this new gentleman.'

'You mean to ask me dear, to go all the way to Lucas Park, when it is wet and cold outside and waste my horse's breath on some young man we know nothing about? I would rather you went yourself. Perhaps you would finally see what it was like for Jane to ride in the rain,' Mr. Bennet commented rather acridly.

'It's because of that little cold that she married Mr. Bingley to begin with! I did what I had to do to ensure my girls' happiness. Now, will you do your part, Sir?'

And so it went on. The eternal argument between the two amounted to nothing but a petty fight, in which Mr. Bennet remained resolutely calm and indifferent, as always whereas Mrs. Bennet gave her last breath trying to persuade him to be a more caring father.

After she grew tired of fighting, she retired to her room, half weeping, half sighing and after a while, Mr. Bennet went to see Mr. Lucas in town.

'Mama needs the salts!' Kitty told Betsy as she rushed into her mother's room. 'She is having a fit again!'

'Oh, to think that I could have you _all_ married to rich and handsome gentlemen and in a couple of years, your children could be running England in Parliament! Oh, to think! And these dreams will never come true because your father is too obstinate! Were it not for him, you would be going many places now.'

Mary, who had come to her mother's side as well, was standing in a chair by her bed, arms folded and a confused expression on her face.

'I believe I'm having a strange sense of déjà vu,' she said.

'Oh, Mary you don't fool me with that French, you spiteful girl! Are you like your father then? Only intelligent things to say and no actual doing?'

'No, mama, Mary was just joking,' Kitty calmed her, throwing Mary an irritated look.

Mary shrugged her shoulders.

'What did I even say?' Mary asked, bewildered.

'You are unwilling to make your poor mama happy. If you really cared for me, you would try to persuade your father!'

'If father didn't listen to you, what makes you think he'll listen to me?'

'If he sees that we are all together in this, he will do it,' her mother argued.

'Last year he did call on Mr. Bingley, even if he swore not to. So I think he is just jesting with you,' Mary said.

'Oh, you know nothing, my dear. How I suffer for you and how you do not appreciate it! You would side with your father any day of the week!'

'That's not true, mama,' Kitty said. 'You know we adore you.'

'Well, you do not show it! Now, if the three of us talked to him, I'm sure…'

And Mrs. Bennet went on with her grievances, making sure to let the servants know too that her family was against her and that her daughters were ungrateful.

This sour mood continued until late in the afternoon, when Maria Lucas finally called on the Bennets, releasing them from their suspense.

Mr. Bennet, who had returned from his affairs and had seen Mr. Lucas, knew all about it and now sat quietly in the drawing room, amusing himself with the surprise on the women's faces.

'His name is Mr. Cosgrove, apparently, and he is a rich gentleman from the North. My mother said he is a tad eccentric but certainly pleasing,' she told them precipitately. 'Papa met with him first and he said that he had a curious manner of talking and behaving, but beyond that, that he was very intelligent.'

Mrs. Bennet, who had not met Mr. Cosgrove properly at Pemberley, knew nothing about him and this piece of information was a novelty to her even though the man in question had even danced with her daughters, but Kitty and Mary knew very well who he was and while the first was pleasantly surprised to have him here, the latter frowned and immediately thought of any ominous reasons he might have for this inopportune visit.

'Well, Mr. Bennet! What a shame! Poor Maria Lucas must come all the way from her house to tell us the news! What do you say to that?' Mrs. Bennet retorted.

'I say, my dear, that I already knew who he was. I spoke to Mr. Lucas. He was a guest at Pemberley too, if you recall,' Mr. Bennet replied nonchalantly.

Mrs. Bennet made a shocked face and stared at him with wide eyes.

'How do you…? You talked to…? Guest at Pemberley? I did not know that! Who was he? Girls, do you happen to be acquainted with him?'

'Why, yes mama, he even danced with me,' Kitty replied, surprised at her mother's ignorance of the matter. 'He knew the Colonel too. And he had had affairs with Mr. Darcy in the past.'

'Danced with you? Acquainted with Mr. Darcy and the Colonel? Good grief! Mary, did you know as well or am I the only one left in the dark?'

Mary nodded her head, fretful of her mother's reaction.

'Well! What an ungrateful family I have! You all knew him but decided not to tell me, for your amusement!'

Everyone fell silent, even poor Maria Lucas who had no share in the argument but had to bear it either way.

After a while, though, Mrs. Bennet couldn't help making an important observation.

'I would stay upset with you all, but I am too selfless to think only of myself. Mr. Cosgrove did dance with Kitty. We need to discuss this.'

'He danced with Mary too!' Kitty defended herself, her heart still set on the Colonel.

'Oh, did he? Well, that was kind of him. Very kind. Shows he has a good character. But now Kitty, we must find out his purpose in coming here. If he has come in search of a wife and if you have really made an impression on him, it would be rude of us not to let him know your hand is free.'

Kitty protested a little about how the Colonel should have the honour of her hand.

'The Colonel?' Mrs. Bennet asked, feigning a deep interest. 'Well, certainly, we should not neglect his attentions, after all he was very warm towards you, Kitty, but has he made his wishes clear? Will he come to Hertfordshire? Or will he at least write? I know he is a very good sort of man and certainly would make you a perfect husband, but if we only settle for waiting and we lose both opportunities, then we won't be very smart, will we?'

'I am sure he will write eventually,' Kitty said morosely.

'Yes, dear, but in the mean time, we must be grateful for our new guest and find out whether he has any interest in you. I am only intrigued, why would he come all the way to Hertfordshire? Not for the Lucases, I tell you, because Maria Lucas couldn't come to the wedding and you girls were the only young ladies from this part of the county. The only presentable, elligible ones, at least,' Mrs. Bennet reasoned.

'Excellent judgement my dear, because the man couldn't have possibly come here for his own leisure and nothing else,' Mr. Bennet commented.

'Well, even so Mr. Bennet! Even if he is here to merely pass the time, should we waste this chance? And why did he choose that Park over all the others around these parts? Depend upon it, girls, he has an ulterior reason. At least, I hope so.'

'Do you really think, mama, I might have attracted his fancy?' Kitty asked coarsely.

'Language, Kitty! But yes, who knows my dear? He might have found you very pleasing, I know all the young men did,' Mrs. Bennet told her smiling proudly.

With a little encouragement from her mother, her vanity began to persuade her that perhaps Phillip Cosgrove was indeed interested in her. If this man had come all the way to Hertfordshire just to see her again, it meant she was far more important than she had thought and this tickled her sense of pride very much. He must have liked her very much to take a Park such as Netherfield Park only to be in her proximity, which also spoke a great deal about his income. She found herself slightly infatuated with the idea that she had caught his eye while she herself had had eyes only for her Colonel. It was a new and pleasing idea to a young lady and certainly more satisfying, because it was the first time she had done next to nothing to secure someone's attentions and yet he had come to her either way, lured only by her natural charms and not some artificial effort. It made the whole affair much more enjoyable for her and while she still thought the Colonel superior to Mr. Cosgrove for various reasons, thinking back on their sparse interactions, she realized she liked him well enough and that he was, in fact, a "good sort of man".

She recalled now the way he had kissed her hand that evening, the gnawing of his sharp teeth on her delicate skin and she took that gesture as a sign of hidden affection.

There was something mysterious and unpredictable about him, something akin to a romantic character in a book, an idea which satisfied her thoroughly.

She should not let this opportunity pass her by.

'But how are we to see him? How are we to know what he means by this unexpected visit? We can't go call on him!' Mrs. Bennet complained. 'Unless Mr. Bennet, you would be a good father, like you always are, and go see him…'

'My dear, I talked to Mr. Lucas, as you wished me to, but I shall certainly not go talk to this young man. I have three daughters married. I thought I didn't need to debase myself any longer.'

'Debase yourself? Is that what you call providing for your daughters?'

And another heated argument ensued, this time because Mr. Bennet wouldn't call on Mr. Cosgrove, which meant that he would once again deny his wife her wish of securing her girls' happiness and Mrs. Bennet repeated the same injurious offences as before, calling him a bad father and a careless husband.

Mr. Bennet proved Mrs. Bennet right at least on the second account because he showed complete indifference to the entire ordeal.

Unfortunately for him, however, in three days, an invitation was issued to all the families in the neighbourhood. They had all been invited to a Ball at Netherfield in honour of its new guest, Mr. Cosgrove.

'We are all to go! All of us!' Mrs. Bennet announced happily. 'Oh, what a good man! He knew there are such fiendish men around the neighbourhood, unsociable and cynical like your father and he made sure we all had a chance to meet him! How wonderful!'

'Fiendish? My dear, have you been reading again?' Mr. Bennet asked amused.

'Oh, hush Mr. Bennet. I will not hear another word from you. I have no time for you now. Kitty, you must wear that lovely dress you wore at Pemberley. But then wait, he has already seen you in it and he will think we are stingy with our attire. No, we must buy you a new one!'

'A new one?' Mr. Bennet protested. 'What for?'

Mrs. Bennet shushed him once more.

'You would not understand Mr. Bennet. She has already made a first impression on him. We wouldn't want that first impression to fade away. He must see that she is used to wearing fine dresses everywhere, not just at Pemberley.'

'Good grief, woman, your intricate reasoning has me thinking you might actually be intelligent,' Mr. Bennet joked.

'And Mary,' Mrs. Bennet continued undeterred, 'I do hope you will not be quiet all evening. You must make conversation with the people around you. It is the first step towards making good connections. Father Samuel is going to be there. And although he is three and forty, I am sure he makes for a very good and intelligent gentleman, the sort that you like. So make sure you say hello to him and praise him for his last sermon, it was very well done. Oh and do be polite to Mr. Cosgrove. He did dance with you, remember?'

But Mary had no intention of attending the Ball at all, so she listened to her mother's advice with an absent mind.

She had not used the sick excuse in a long time and she thought this was a good an opportunity as any. Usually it did not fool her mother two times in a row, but she had not pretended to be sick since she was sixteen.

She had no wish to attend any other Ball, she was tired after Pemberley and she certainly did not wish to talk to Mr. Cosgrove, believing he would corner her again and oblige her to listen to his unbearable opinions. She, like her mother and Kitty, thought he had come here for her sister, so her presence was not paramount. She also suspected there was something else behind his visit, because he had shown no clear interest in Katherine to begin with. She wasn't so very keen on discovering his real motivations, but she was sure that whatever they were, they couldn't remain unknown for a very long time, knowing him.

On the night of the Ball, she came up to her mother, coughing and wheezing. She made sure not to eat much all day in order to acquire a sallow complexion.

She looked weak and tired. Fortunately for her, she could easily appear weary and ashen, because she usually exhausted herself intellectually.

'Mama, I am not sure I can go to the Ball. I feel very sick, I think I should stay and rest in bed…'

'Are you with fever?' her mother asked. She placed her hand on her daughter's forehead. 'Hmm, a little bit warm. I hope Kitty hasn't got it too.'

'No, she is fine, it's just me. May I please go to bed instead?'

'Well, are you sure you cannot at least come and sit down somewhere? It will be good for you. You might even have the chance to play the piano!'

'No, no, I cannot even stand, I am sure I must rest. But I promise I will attend the next social event,' Mary said, smiling hopefully.

At length, Mrs. Bennet did allow her to stay at home but made her promise she would try talking to Father Samuel in church the following Sunday.

The Bennets went to the Ball without thinking anyone would really miss Mary's presence.

They did not feel guilty about leaving her with the maid, because Betsy always knew how to take care of her and Mary's bouts of sickness were usually inoffensive and temporary.

They would tell whomever asked that she was not feeling well enough that evening. It was not a real dilemma, not for this family at least.

However, it was a dilemma for Mr. Cosgrove.

He had brought his own company to Hertfordshire, two ladies and three gentlemen and he had thrown this lavish event for the entire neighbourhood, only to be able to get acquainted with the Bennets and their daughter, when much to his dismay, the only member of the Bennets he wished to see, was not there.

'Mr. Cosgrove we are so honoured to finally make your acquaintance, we are terribly sorry we did not have the pleasure to do so at Pemberley!' Mrs. Bennet began once he approached them. 'You see, being among so many honourable guests, we scarcely had time to see our dear Lizzie!'

'I am sure you found yourself overwhelmed with the good society. Pemberley has that effect on people,' he replied after more inept considerations from her part.

Mr. Cosgrove had little patience for the mother. He had observed her before. She was nothing but a gossip with little to no judgement. The father was the one he wished to approach, because he was the rational head of the family.

He exchanged common pleasantries with him, only a couple of trifles regarding farming and books so that Mr. Bennet saw that he was informed and interested in the same things as he was. Having found common ground with him, he left him in silence, not wishing to appear too eager or talkative and he wisely redirected his attentions towards Kitty.

She was his first choice of partner that evening and he danced three dances with her, during which he made sure to feed her already growing suspicions.

As they surrounded the other couples, he told her she was a wonderful creature, that she was a beauty among beauties and every trite thing he could come up with that would make her yearn for more. He also admired her ability to be so discreet and so outspoken at the same time.

'Half of the things you say make you outshine most of your sex in terms of eloquence and spirit, whereas the other half is completely unknown to anyone, it is a calm exercise of silence,' he told her.

While Kitty did not understand much from this, except the fact that he believed her to be eloquent and outspoken, Mr. Cosgrove delighted himself with this very euphemistic way of calling her stupid.

He continued with similar compliments and he amused himself the entire evening.

By the end of it, Kitty had a very good opinion of him and even deigned to see him as the Colonel's equal.

Something in the pits of her stomach did upset her though as she parted with him that night. She had seen him talk to her sister a great deal during their stay at Pemberley, or at least, it had seemed a great deal to her.

She worried lest Mr. Cosgrove should reacquaint himself with her sister and find her interesting as well. She knew she was still far more charming than Mary, but she could not help worrying that Mary's intellect could perhaps outshine her appearance and gaiety.

After meditating on this on the way home, she resolved that she was being silly. She shook her head, smiling contently. Of course she was being absurd. Mr. Cosgrove had come here for her, he had told her this all night. He wouldn't be swayed by anyone else.

Mrs. Bennet shared her daughter's rightful opinion. She had seen the way they had danced that night. She had heard her speak of him and he of her and it was only too clear that he liked her very much. He had smiled at her in a way he hadn't at any other young lady there. His gestures and behaviour all proved that he was interested.

Mr. Bennet, however, had a different view on things. Mr. Cosgrove had struck him as a similar nature, if only a little bit too spirited for his taste and he concluded that a nature like his own could not be induced to take a wife like Kitty, no matter how lovely she was.

But then again, he himself had married Mrs. Bennet, so perhaps men like him did indeed marry women like Kitty.

* * *

The two women made sure to give Mary a precise and detailed account of the entire evening.

'Three dances with Kitty! And he talked to her a great deal throughout the entire thing. He seemed to have eyes for her only!'

'Oh, mama, it wasn't quite like that! He did talk to Maria Lucas too. For twenty minutes even,' Kitty protested.

'Yes, dear, but the other hours he spent mostly in your company, did he not?' Mrs. Bennet argued. 'He cannot fool me. He does like you very much.'

Mary was pleased to see her family so happy, but something did not bode well to her about this curious attachment of his to Kitty. It was too sudden, too...artful.

Then again, she had not been present to see, so she could not really make an argument.

And if she tried, her mother knocked it dead immediately.

'Too sudden? Why, was he not acquainted with her at Pemberley? It would be too sudden if they had just met, but otherwise... And let us recall that Jane and Mr. Bingley did not even know each other when they fell in love at the Ball.'

'Oh, my dear, you talk from books again,' Mr. Bennet complained, pouring himself some brandy.

'I am only being direct. I do not make injurious allusions like you are apt to do. I think we can invite him to dinner. He will naturally accept. I see no reason why he would not.'

'We will do no such thing, madam. If he wishes to come, let him invite himself,' Mr. Bennet declared.

'I know _you_ would be capable of that!' Mrs. Bennet replied, spitefully. 'Oh, you are being absurd again!'

'No, my dear, _you_ are being overly zealous. I'm afraid you danced yourself into a state of unhealthy excitement. You should get yourself to bed and the girls too, because I don't wish to hear anymore of this, not until tomorrow morning.'

* * *

Before the two girls went to bed, Kitty recounted to Mary all of Mr. Cosgrove's compliments to her.

She made sure to give a faithful a rendition as any. Of course she could barely remember his real words, but despite Kitty's lack of good memory, Mary realized, from small fragments here and there, that Mr. Cosgrove was making a fool out of her. Either that or Kitty was not a very good listener.

However, the first was likelier, knowing his previous opinions of Katherine.

She hoped she was being mistaken.

* * *

In the county of Derbyshire, another man was hoping to be mistaken.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was sitting with his cousin, the lovely and shy Georgiana Darcy, in the drawing room, making small conversation as she practiced on her pianoforte and he read the paper.

They were enjoying another silent night at Pemberley, happy to be rid of the numerous guests and the clamour of the wedding.

Georgiana had stopped practicing at length and had come to sit by his side.

He told her once more that he loved her. She knew his feelings were sincere. He had loved her since infancy. She was also sure he had kept this secret for so long only because she had been too young and because the circumstances had been dreary. But he had been a constant comfort to her during those fateful nights after Mr. Wickham had taken her heart and broken it in half. He had also been a constant friend to her brother.

He had everything to recommend him; character, fortune, nature, family, appearance, mind, career. Everything was in his favour.

But Georgiana Darcy still hesitated in reluctance.

'You know, my dear Colonel, how I care for you but this is not a good time. My brother has found a wife and while I'm very happy for him and I already love Lizzie like a sister, it has brought back too many sad memories I wish to inter. If you will only wait for me a while longer, I shall perhaps grow to love you as you wish me to.'

This kind speech certainly disappointed the Colonel despite his trying to persuade himself otherwise, but it also gave him hope for a future engagement, a future love. He understood Georgiana. She was in a delicate state, one he could not take advantage of. He would wait for her. He had waited this long, he would not let her go now. He would not abandon her for anything.

His heart was trapped in her beautiful, blue, longing eyes.

His mind, however, was still somewhere above his unsteady feelings. And his mind _was_ steady.

Georgiana Darcy was an angel to him, but he was a man.

Although he tried to push back the relentless unwise thoughts, he couldn't quite make them disappear altogether, because he did not really see them as unwise and long after she retired to her room, he went over the same improper but persistent idea.

Until Georgiana settled her mind and recovered from her doubts and frights, he knew he should not waste time. Georgiana would come to her senses soon, but in the mean time, nothing prevented him, if he so wished, to see the Bennet girls again.


	9. Chapter 9

**And here I am with yet another fast update, courtesy of my ignoring school work, as usual. Yes, I will probably cry in a bucket after this but I just had to write. It was a force more powerful than me:) I hope I didn't make many mistakes, I am a bit tired. Anyways, thanks a bunch for all your lovely reviews and opinions, thanks again anonymous reviewers, big hug for you!**

**Please enjoy the new chapter and leave a review!**

Mary Bennet liked to sit by her bedroom window in the morning, coffee or tea in her lap and without having pruned herself, sit and stare at the morning sky and the unravelling nature for an hour or so.

After an hour someone around the house would holler at her to wash and change her dress. But if everyone was occupied with other things or too careless to mind, or if Betsy was gone to town, she could sit like this until mid noon.

One winter morning, the entire larder was flooded and everyone in the house was called to help. Even Kitty grabbed a bucket, but Mary stayed where she was, content with gazing at the nature as always. She told herself she wouldn't be of much help downstairs, so she did not bother to lend a hand. She was right, she would have only stood in the way, but her mother got very upset and punished her. She was made to sweep the barns for an entire month.

Mary, who was not an adept of physical work, took the broom reluctantly, shuffled to the barn in an irritated manner and slammed the door shut. Then she made sure her parents could hear her move around the room, sweeping. After a while, she saw her mother had retired in the house. She threw away the broom and sat on a flight of stairs, looking out the window barn.

So you could conclude that Mary was not really a woman of action, she was a woman of position. She chose her position. She settled down and then began thinking.

At one of the church gatherings at Mrs. Hemming's house, she was asked to play the piano as usual. And Mary gladly accepted it, as she always did. However, after she played two songs, halfway through the third, she stopped, put her hand under her chin and began gazing at an object across the room intently.

The ladies grew worried and coughed awkwardly. Eventually, her mother came and asked her through gritted teeth why she had stopped.

'There's still five movements to go, dear. What are you doing?' she asked, digging her sharp fingers in her shoulder.

'Thinking,' she answered simply.

'Of what exactly?'

'Oh, I just saw an oddly shaped statue across the room. I must stop and look at it. I hadn't noticed it before. I am ashamed my observation skills are weak,' she answered, her brow creased.

'Your observation skills...Goodness, dear, people want to hear you play! That is why you were asked!'

'I know, I know but this is more important,' she said waving her hand carelessly. That is why, when she played at Pemberley and the Colonel was present, she couldn't afford to be careless, because he was the first man that had caught her interest. And it was more important to play to a man like him, for her at least.

It might mean going against her principles, but this was her first attraction, one couldn't condemn a girl for identifying her first possible love.

This morning, as she was sipping from her cup, she did think a little about the Colonel. But Mary is prone to forget things that do not take up much space in her intellectual needs. She hoped she'd soon forget about him, because he did not present anything interesting to her and her needs. He was only interesting for her heart and she undervalued that organ. Not even his so-called articles could really please her. But he did please her nonetheless.

Forgetting about him was proving difficult when heart battled mind. Her heart was more keen on him than on other things. But this heart was usually so listless that she thought it would lose the battle very soon. She could be considered a generally lazy person in all aspects of her life. The exception was her studies and reading. Everything else was far too difficult for her. Tying up her own dress was difficult, listening to Kitty talk about a soldier was too difficult, and helping with the church baskets was a torment. She did not even look at the baskets. She only gave her savings to a poor woman on the street, but she did not ask her if she had received a basket, because she believed no basket ever reached a fellow in need. Indeed, there was no point to it or many other things.

Such as brushing her hair. She did not understand why that was so very important. There were days when she did not look in the vanity glass and her family told her she looked strange and ill but she was far too obstinate to go see for herself, because the mirror was in Jane and Lizzie's old room and she had to walk all the way across the house which was too tedious for her.

However, she did not mind walking across meadows and moors, aimlessly, over acres of land that would seem a lot more tiresome because, as she told everyone, there was no clear destination or purpose in her walk. If she had to walk over a meadow to find an object, she would find it bothersome. But when she had the freedom to simply walk, she did not feel she was making an effort or even walking at all. She was just moving with her body, but really, she was still at her bedroom window.

This morning, after staring at the window for a good while, she took her coat and went outside as usual.

While she was gone, Mrs. Bennet issued an invitation for Mr. Cosgrove. She sent it with Mr. Hill and made her husband sign it. She was, of course, asking him to dine with them.

Mr. Bennet had groaned and buried his head in his hands, but Mrs. Bennet had prevailed in the end, saying that three days had passed since the Ball and it would be only fair to welcome the kind gentleman into their home.

'It will be a monstrous affair if you do, my dear,' he said weakly.

'No, it will be a chance for him to see we are good people with a wholesome home and an agreeable household and that we spend wisely, but we do not shy away from spending what is due. That we are not miserly or overly content, that we are only seeking to please. And he will enjoy my leg of lamb. I assure you he will.'

She kept on about his preference for the country and how he would like to see a country house.

'I am sure he is tired of dreary town buildings.'

'Netherfield Park is not exactly a country house,' Mr. Bennet reminded her.

'Why, it is not at all overbearing Mr. Bennet. It is an excellent example of the country and its charms!'

'Then let him stay there by all means!'

'No, no, he must come and see us and see Kitty again!'

This argument lasted for a full hour before Mr. Bennet gave up.

Much to their surprise and Mary's when she happened to return from their walk, he accepted their invitation promptly.

Mrs. Bennet was over the moon.

'Could it be more obvious? Oh, could it be more clear?'

'No, dear, but I still don't see what you mean,' Mr. Bennet replied.

'He has taken to Kitty! So much so that he will deign to pay us a visit!'

'Ah, was that all?'

Oh, we must be prepared, we must scrub every inch of this miserable house and make it look like a true gentleman's home!'

'You mean to imply it does not look so already?' Mr. Bennet asked.

'I cannot be as artful as you are dear, so yes, this house looks positively medieval. We must do something about it!'

After much considerations, Mr. Bennet retired to his study to ponder on the impossibility of having a peaceful existence.

Kitty and Mrs. Bennet were very excited. They could not stop fidgeting and moving things around the house. He was to dine with them in two days.

And there was no time to get everything done.

'Oh, I should have written a latter date,' Mrs. Bennet chided herself.

'Oh, no, mama, we would have made him wait for too long. It is not all bad. We will be ready. If he does indeed like me, he won't mind we are not very rich,' Kitty told her.

'Stop speaking like that, you are making me anxious! Oh, what will we do? Oh, how good of him to come!'

And come he did, as promised, two days later, bearing small presents for the family and a calm, if not restrained disposition with him, which suited Mr. Bennet very well. He talked little, but had eyes for every small detail around him.

As soon as he entered the house, he registered every little imperfection and incongruity, every proof of bad taste or poverty, every speck of dust and every stain on the old rug in the parlour, until he felt quite disgusted, but placid enough in order to bear to have conversation with them.

At the same time, the women registered everything that was handsome and perfect about him, any sign of wealth and good breadth. The carriage outside was not cheap or dingy either They felt quite uneasy, even if they were so pleased to have him, because he was superior in every way.

He, on the other hand, felt pleased to be so out of context, so out of place. It meant they were feeling the same. The sad truth was right before their eyes, this comedy was a useless attempt at appearing more than they would ever be. And he enjoyed sucking out the truth from their lying lips.

Everything betrayed them. And everything betrayed Kitty. She was very partial to him.

And once again, the one girl that interested him the most for various unorthodox reasons, was found to be missing.

He ground his teeth until he felt them break in half. His annoyance grew to be insurmountable.

'And your other daughter, Mary Bennet?' he asked.

'Oh, unfortunately, she has been asked to dine with Mr. and Mrs Lucas. They have been begging her to come play for them since they bought a new instrument and no member of the family knows how to use it,' Mrs. Bennet explained, trying to sound formal.

In truth, Mrs. Bennet had persuaded Mary to accept the invitation from the Lucases, thinking that if they had one mouth absent from the table, she could give the gentleman a larger portion and pour him more Port wine and perhaps indulge him with a larger piece of cake. Also, she was afraid Mary would say something odd or silly that would drive the gentleman away.

She had had her share of experiences with her daughter from Balls and social gatherings. She did not wish for the same thing to happen.

Her judgement might seem unmotherly, but she knew she was being a practical and involved mother. She was sacrificing in order to receive. Mr. Bennet and Kitty either did not notice or did not bother to complain.

Mary accepted to go see the Lucases and the night Mr. Cosgrove visited, she found herself in their drawing room.

One can only suppose the kind of frustration that Mr. Cosgrove felt at hearing this.

He cursed her internally. He cursed them all.

He spent a tedious evening with these people and tried amusing himself with their antics, but he was at his wit's end.

'Now do tell us, Sir, why did you pick my dear Kitty for your first dance?' Mrs. Bennet asked cheekily.

He sipped from his wine languidly. He glanced at Kitty with a strange intensity. She blushed and bowed her head timidly.

'She was the most handsome in the room. Why would I have picked anyone beneath her?' he asked.

Mrs. Bennet was confounded by this straightforward answer and she began blushing more than her daughter. Her pride filled her with motherly joy. She had found another Mr. Bingley! And one who did not shy away from admiring her daughter! Bingley himself had been rather slow and inept.

Now here was a man who knew what he wanted. She sighed happily. She even forgot her initial worries of him being so very superior.

When they were done eating, he retired with Mr. Bennet to his study to discuss current affairs and smoke. Mr. Bennet seemed to like him well enough. He tried impressing him with his large amount of precious books he had collected over the years.

Phillip Cosgrove pretended to be interested. The books Mr. Bennet had acquired were by no means very valuable, but he had read most of them.

He began discussing them, but Mr. Bennet revealed he hadn't yet read them.

'My dear Mary has read a few. She is not here though, otherwise she would tell you.'

He ground his teeth again. Mary Bennet. The girl who was purposely avoiding him.

When he left their house later that evening, he spat on the cold ground before him and muttered a guttural swear. He had promised Kitty they would meet again. She had believed him. He had kissed her hand again, this time barely touching her skin with his lips. And he had looked at her with pity. She was stuck in this house, with this family, with her mind and her abilities. Her only salvation was her looks which would wear away in ten years.

After which she would be dead to the world. Another young girl born to achieve nothing and waste everyone's time. Another one that breathed in too much air and occupied too much space.

Their entire family was dead, to him. Barely living, but only barely.

The pulsating vein was this Mary Bennet.

She, who seemed deader than most, was still stubborn enough to live. She had avoided him yet again.

He had seen many families, he had met many girls, but he had never met the Bennets before. They were a new breed.

He smiled to himself. After all, life was interesting.

* * *

Mary had come home to hear of Mr. Cosgrove again, but this time she did not bother to open her ears to what they were saying. She stood with her book in the small parlour and nodded her head and hummed a 'yes' and an 'indeed' from time to time to give the impression that she was not completely unaware of their talking. She did say 'yes' when she meant no, but she did not care, because her family was only trying to pour out their impressions, not listen to hers.

Therefore, they didn't ask much about the Lucases.

They would in a week or so, if they had nothing to talk about.

She had enjoyed the quite night at her neighbours' house. Maria Lucas had been charming. She thought of inviting her out for a walk.

She even got ready to go out. After all, she had nothing to do inside. She would only hear more of Mr. Cosgrove.

However, barely had she made two steps outside the front garden, when Kitty ran after her, bonnet and gloves in her hand.

'Wait, I am coming with you!'

Mary groaned and made no effort to hide her disappointment.

'I like walking alone Kitty.'

'No, you don't. You only say that, but you walk alone so you can meet someone from the neighbourhood. It's what women do all the time.'

Mary stared at her perplexed.

'Are you saying you want to meet someone?'

'No, I said you do. So I am coming with you. I don't wish to give you the satisfaction. Besides, we might run into Mr. Cosgrove because your walk is in the proximity of Netherfield Park,' Kitty explained.

'It wouldn't be a good idea to meet him,' Mary said. 'Think of what people would say.'

'We are now acquainted. He danced with me all night, he dined with us as well,' Kitty reasoned. 'Why would it be an issue?'

'He is not a very good person. I have told you before. He is cynical and hateful of men. And I do not say it out of some personal inclination. He really is absurdly mean,' Mary explained, trying to be as sincere as possible.

Kitty started laughing.

'Absurdly mean? Oh, Mary, I saw you talking to him at Pemberley and you didn't seem to mind this trait of his. I think you rather liked him, didn't you? So you are saying this now to prevent me from liking him because it would foil your plans with him.'

'What plans?'

'Oh, don't play innocent now, you sly thing,' Kitty said laughing again. 'I know you must feel bad you did not attend the Ball, but it was your own fault you know. You pretended to be sick again.'

'Oh, you know about that?'

'I am not stupid, Mary. I know you probably fancy him, but I'm afraid he fancies me. I am sorry it happened like this, but I am quite sure. So be a good sister and do the honourable thing. Let me meet him,' Kitty said, smiling knowingly.

'Well, you can come with me, but if we do meet him and if he does offend you and make you cry, I won't be your comfort, because I warned you. From what I talked to him, I gathered he is a nihilist.'

'Nilihist?'

'Nihilist. It's well...it doesn't matter. He is not a good sort.'

'You won't persuade me against him, so we'd better hurry and leave before Betsy finds a reason to keep us inside,' Kitty said, pulling her towards the gates.

The two sisters, one more reluctant than the other, turned left towards the country path that led to Netherfield and the fields beyond.

Kitty was looking around warily, Mary was walking and thinking about what she would do when she returned home. She envisioned eating some cake and reading something from Petronius again.

The warm sky of August had turned slightly grey today, but it was still hot enough for them to take off their coats and walk with them in their arms. They lifted their skirts when they had to cross a small rivulet that had been made by a heavy rain torrent.

Mary noticed the flowers were brown or fading into the ground. The sun's light was an egg colour. It made the tree tops look like pots and pans. She felt slightly hungry. She took a small apple from her bag.

'Let's sit down, I want to eat my apple,' Mary told her sister.

'Oh, well, you sit here, I am going to go a bit further to see if I can find some flowers to pick for the dining room table,' Kitty said offhandedly and marched ahead.

Mary sighed and sat down on a large tree stump next to a thicket of tall bushes. They offered a dry shade.

She put her coat on the stamp and sat on it. She then took off her bonnet and her shawl and laid them on the grass. She bit into her apple and stared at the ground, where a small ant was struggling to carry a large morsel of apple into her anthill.

Mary smiled. She liked it when God's creatures, as she called them, shared their meals with her.

Not long afterwards though her peace was broken when Kitty came running back with a large smile plastered on her tiny, sweaty face. She had picked only two or three flowers.

'Look who I found along the way, Mary!' she said, grinning genially at the man behind her.

Mary wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and narrowed her eyes in order to see the man who was standing in the sunlight.

'Miss Bennet, what a delightful thing to see you again,' a voice came from afar.

Mary rose and bowed politely.

'Mr. Cosgrove,' she said.

'I see you are enjoying the wonders of nature,' he said, looking at both of them with a disapproving smile. Kitty thought he considered walking alone to be impudent, but Mr. Cosgrove was actually displeased that Mary Bennet was not alone.

'Oh, we came to pick some flowers for our dining room table, nothing more demanding,' Kitty explained.

'Your sister isn't doing her job then,' he said pointing at Mary. 'How are you doing, Miss Bennet? I haven't seen you since Pemberley.'

'Which was not a long time ago,' Mary said. 'So there is not much I can tell you, but I am fine.'

Phillip smiled and nodded his head.

'I am sure that had I come after two years I would have got the same reply. But I know country life cannot be as boring as you say it is. I am enjoying it quite well.'

'It's hard to believe that,' Mary said, meaning no malice. Mr. Cosgrove frowned. 'Why have you come?'

'Mary how rude!' Kitty intervened. 'You talk as if you're accusing poor Mr. Cosgrove. Do not mind her, she has been upset all morning.'

'Oh, I never mind her, Miss Bennet, don't worry. I see you ladies are in need of a companion. I shall walk with you. I love these long country walks that seem to lead nowhere. It's such a good metaphor for life.'

Kitty readily accepted this proposal.

'Well, you two go ahead, I am going to stay here and rest,' Mary said calmly.

'Miss Bennet is probably upset with me, that is why she won't come,' Phillip remarked.

'No, I just want to sit down and rest. It's as simple as that,' Mary replied nonchalantly.

'But the day is young, you will have time to sit when we have tea, at Netherfield,' he proposed.

'Oh, no, I would much rather go home, thank you.'

Cosgrove nodded his head. He was growing increasingly impatient. He was also becoming slightly irritated with her passive, indifferent fashion of addressing him. It was irritating most of all because he knew it was not a scheme to lure him on her part, it was just her being that unwillingly amusing creature that Lady Tramel had told him about.

He hoped this was not the case and that he could, at length, make her cry in frustration or at least moan in agony. There was no joy to life if she remained impassive and nonchalant. If he could not affect her the way he had that night at Pemberley, then where was the purpose of his life? He was meant to bring misery and mortification, he was meant to lower any sort of self respect. He knew he could make her suffer, he just did not know that only some things made her suffer.

He did not wish to be disappointed. He hoped she would be flexible to his demands and would make him an obedient and grudging wife. That he could make her bend her ways and oblige her to act like him, dragging her into the pits of what this world meant to him. That he could shame her and make her feel that she was no better than anyone. That he could make her see that in the grand scheme of things, she was a puny girl with little to no originality and that she meant nothing and that she would never be able to change anything.

He also hoped she would admit, after a certain amount of time, that he was right, that she was a narrow-minded, pedant prude and that her opinions were largely fabricated from books and never from her own judgement.

He hoped she would fall on the ground in front of him and confess that she did not feel she truly existed, because everything that she was, was borrowed from something or someone else and that there was no authentic part, no real form in her.

At last, he hoped she would join his company, his company made up of men and women of degrading positions, men and women who had given up hope and reason, who devoted themselves to pure and selfish pleasure, who never wasted a thought on others, who never thought of doing good for the sake of doing good. The women gave themselves to the men, the men to the women, in a vicious and rhythmic circle that never ended. And she would be part of it. And soon, he would corrupt her so much, that she would protest if he took the wine glass away from her or if he forbade her to sleep with someone for a night.

This is the kind of vision he had of the future with her. He would always be alone in his reasons, but at least he would have others around him that followed him, regardless. They could not understand his mission was salvation and they did not need to.

It was enough for him that they sought him blindly.

Mary Bennet was going to be the same.

'Still, I couldn't leave you here alone. My conscience would be tormented,' he said, faking distress.

'Please, Mary, do come as well,' Kitty said reluctantly. 'Mr. Cosgrove is asking you.'

'No, I think I will stay here.'

Phillip Cosgrove's eyes thinned into a straight and red line. He was not pleased with the answer.

She did not even look at him when she answered, she only looked at her apple.

'But, Mary...' Kitty complained.

'I said I am not coming,' she said firmly. Phillip smiled acridly.

She made some noncommittal gestures and sat back down on the stamp.

Eventually, he turned his back on her and took Kitty's arm, leading her towards the Park.

Unfortunately for Mary, the weather was not on her side today.

The grey August sky was growing darker. Before any of them knew what had happened, a strong shower poured down on them.

It was not a usual summer shower, it was the beginning of autumn. Buckets of water were falling on the ground, like small child fists beating into the muddy soils. The nature was rebelling against the suffocating hotness.

The rain soaked her to the bones before she could find proper shelter.

She had no choice but to walk to the closest building around those parts, Netherfield Park.

When she reached the gates, she saw Kitty and Mr. Cosgrove standing on the terrace, watching the rain. Kitty had her coat and shawl drawn over her small figure and Mr. Cosgrove had also brought her a blanket.

Mr. Cosgrove bid Kitty to go call one of the servants so they could send a searching party for Mary.

Therefore, when Mary approached the marble steps leading to the aforementioned terrace, Mr. Cosgrove was standing alone, smoking his pipe.

'Well, look what the cat dragged in,' he remarked amused.

'If it isn't Ophelia,' he alluded to their last conversation at Pemberley. 'I see you lost your apple.'

'Believe me, Sir, you are no Hamlet.'

'Of course not. Why would I choose to be a wondering fool? I am Polonius. And as your rightful father, I hold your fate in my hands.'

'I grow tired of your charades,' she said, meaning to climb the steps. 'May I please come in, Mr. Cosgrove?'

'By all means, my house is at your command,' he said, pointing towards the door.

She nodded her head and walked up to him. Before she could step inside, he yanked her arm towards him.

'Why did you not come to the Ball?'

She attempted to pull her hand away but he did not relent. He was clearly waiting for an answer.

'You have no right to handle me this way. It's very...'

'I don't give a bloody damn about my rights, I will take your hand whenever I please. I did ask you a pertinent question.'

'I will not answer that question. It's no business of yours.'

'No business of mine? It was my Ball. I believe it is my business.'

'I was feeling ill,' she replied demurely.

She realized he was not really holding her tightly.

'I do not believe that. What about the dinner?'

She remained stubbornly silent, her expression resolute.

'Were you trying to avoid me? It was very impertinent of you. I wasted money and food for nothing. Not to mention, I also wasted an evening in the company of your detestable family.'

'It's not my fault you threw an extravagant Ball or chose to spend time with the family you think so ill of. As it is, you could waste all your time, I wouldn't care. Why would you want me to come either way?'

'Haven't you realized it yet? I know you are at least more intelligent than your sister.'

'I don't waste my thinking on you, Mr. Cosgrove,' she replied, looking towards the house, hoping Kitty would come soon.

He laughed hoarsely.

'I only know you mean no good with my sister, Kitty. I would appreciate it if you left her alone, Sir. You are no good influence for her.'

'I would not worry about her, if I were you. She is, by all means, a happy creature. Stupid people are generally happy. She is in no danger of knowing how much I despise her.'

'Then what will you do?' Mary asked, after a pause. 'Because you must have some design in coming here.'

'It's easy, Miss Bennet. I am going to harm _you_. I am going to make _you_ miserable,' he said simply.

Mary opened her mouth in shock. The small relief she had felt in knowing he would not attempt to jilt her sister faded away quickly. The words she heard made no sense to a simple, Christian country girl.

'What are you saying?'

'I am going to make you pay for your mistakes,' he replied.

'Pay for my mistakes?'

'Yes. You made the mistake of crossing my path. You made the mistake of being a sore eye and a bad mouth, to boot. And you bluntly refused to meet me, _twice_, which even _I_ consider a lack of respect and dignity. So, I will do what I do best. I will bring you pain.'

'But...why? Why would you do this?'

He smiled, untying her wet bonnet.

'Because you _do_ know how much I despise you.'

And when he uttered the last word, he felt his aversion towards humanity bile up in his throat like a rotten fruit, or like a dead breath of air. He despised her kind and women like her.

But he grudgingly felt a deep sense of admiration for her as well, because she did not deny this last statement. She did not shake her head or try to demand an explanation. She did not even move.

All she asked was:

'And...how exactly are you going to make me suffer?'

Her voice was shaking.

'I will do what men generally do when they wish to make women miserable. Marry you.'

Her face turned into a grimace. The horror of the situation sank in quickly. The rain sounded like the crack of a whip on her back.

'P-Polonius marrying Ophelia?' she squeaked.

'Precisely. It would make it all the more despicable.'

She pulled away from him and entered the house quickly, not looking back. She felt trapped. Wherever she looked, she felt trapped. The outside was wet and ghastly and the inside was a maze of rooms and old furniture.

She met Kitty in the hallway.

'Oh, Mary, you are here! How good, we don't need to send a searching party anymore! See what happens when you refuse kind gentlemen? You end up soaked to the bones!'

Mary coughed loudly and leant against the wall, breathing heavily.

'Did you run all the way here? No wonder you're out of breath! You might catch a cold!'

'At this point, I wouldn't care,' she muttered morosely.

'Ladies,' Phillip Cosgrove said walking in, 'would anyone care for dry clothes and some tea?'

Mary felt her eyes sting with tears.

* * *

**So...how many of you already hate Mr. Cosgrove? Share your thoughts in a review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi everyone, I frankly don't know how to start this. I got so many reviews for the last chapter, so many reactions, I don't know how to reply really :) I'm grateful for those who keep reading and I'm sorry for those who have been offended by this story, but I will not try and paint a rosy picture just for the sake of aesthetics. I will also not make the characters redeemable just so they could be relatable, I'm sorry :) Some of these characters are wholesome, some of them are reckless harmful human being, some of them are both. It's just the way life goes. No character can be made of light; there is always some darkness. As for Mr. Cosgrove, it is important that he caused a reaction. He is wicked, but there are also reasons why he is that way which will be revealed. Paradoxically, he sees what he does as the only right thing in the world. It's what humans do sometimes. **

**Again, I am sorry for having offended some of you. It's just a story, don't take it to heart. And if you have taken it to heart, maybe it will make you think, I hope :) Thanks for the reviews and for your thoughts, much appreciated! **

**Now unto the chapter. **

Wise men keep telling us history has a way of repeating itself.

One Mary Bennet must have been thinking the same thing, because the circumstances were all reminiscent of another time when another Bennet girl had fallen ill at Netherfield.

It had been a year since Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley had fallen in love on account of the lady's short stay Netherfield and Mary Bennet could firmly attest that, while everything was inviting the mind to fancy a similar outcome on her part, Phillip Cosgrove was no Bingley and she was no Jane and no love could ever transpire between them, much less a feeling of cordiality.

But it could not be denied that it was a strange coincidence.

Kitty had insisted on staying to nurse her poor sister. The family had been announced by a dispatch.

Phillip Cosgrove was beyond himself with contentment. He had never expected his plans to take such an advantageous turn. He had certainly not bargained on this peculiar event, unlike Mrs. Bennet, who had waged all her luck on one autumn shower.

Of course, it was rather tiresome that Kitty Bennet was staying at Netherfield as well, but she did sometimes prove to be an entertaining and amiable presence, therefore he did not mind her as much.

The physician attended to Mary Bennet day and night, the servants waited on her hand and foot and she had all the comforts someone in her current state would need. If she was not so inclined to despise Mr. Cosgrove, she would be quite grateful to him.

But as it was, all she could muster to feel was something vague, akin to indifference, which meant she harboured no belligerent feelings, for the time being.

'Your fever has not gone down yet,' Kitty said one afternoon, placing her hand on her forehead. 'It's a very stubborn cold, I tell you.'

'Stubborn like me?' Mary asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Worse actually. See what pretending to be ill gets you? Now you really are bedridden.'

'I suppose I have learnt my lesson. Thank you, Kitty, for staying with me,' Mary said, patting her hand weakly.

'Well, of course! Do you think I would just leave you here with strangers?' Kitty said, smiling sadly.

'No,' Mary admitted smiling.

'Besides, you would do the same for me. We're sisters and we must take care of one another,' she continued.

'Yes, and you've been a good sister,' Mary said.

'So far,' Kitty added, laughing. 'Wait till I upset you again.'

Mary laughed as well. Kitty was a great comfort.

'But Mary, you must really thank Mr. Cosgrove, not me. He's been all attention to us! Really now, I hardly see how you can think of him as mean and foul, when he has been nothing but a devoted gentleman!'

'I will thank him for his diligence, but right now I am indisposed. I only wish to spend time with you,' Mary replied quickly, trying to avert the subject.

'Well, you ought to show your consideration. I feel very embarrassed, he's been so kind.'

'You shouldn't. It was his duty to be kind. And he has done his duty,' Mary said quietly.

'Well, it's so stuffy in here! I should crack a window open,' Kitty said, getting up and going to the window.

'The estate is so beautiful. Oh if only you were able to come with me on a walk, Mary...'

'I will be very soon.'

'Not at this rate, your fever has not gone down at all,' Kitty repeated. 'Well, we shall have to wait and see.'

'Pray for me and I'll get better. God shall help me through this,' Mary said, turning her head into her pillow.

'Yes, God...' Kitty muttered indifferently, looking out the window.

* * *

That evening, Kitty and Phillip sat in front of the fire for two hours talking and reading. The few guests he had called for supper had not shown up due to the heavy pouring outside, but they were expected to come the following day. Meanwhile, he had to content himself with Kitty's less than stimulating conversation.

She talked to him about the Ball at Netherfield and compared it to the one Mr. Bingley had held the previous year.

'It was such a lovely event. After that fateful evening we were all sure Jane and Mr. Bingley would surely marry. They looked so much in love. Of course, no one expected the same from Lizzie and Mr. Darcy. There was a general feeling of animosity between them, at first. And at the Ball, no one suspected Mr. Darcy's reasons for dancing with Lizzie, although my sister Lydia had her suspicions.'

'Oh, did she?' Phillip asked indifferently. 'I suppose she had a good eye. For who indeed could possibly see the hidden connection between an intelligent and impulsive young woman and an arrogant and bored young man?'

Kitty did not sense the sarcasm in his voice and nodded her head vigorously.

'Indeed, no one did. We all thought nothing would come out of it.'

'Nothing would have come out if he had been indifferent. But he chose to belittle her in the beginning. This shows interest,' he countered.

'Perhaps you are right. I never thought of it that way,' Kitty agreed, smiling.

'Tell me, Kitty, have you ever felt disappointed?' he asked all of sudden, looking deeply in her brown eyes.

'Oh, you mean jilted, I suppose?' Kitty asked blushing.

'No, disappointed. Have you ever felt disappointed in those around you?'

Kitty opened her mouth in surprise, then closed it quickly. She was fishing for words.

'Well...I suppose I feel they ought to behave better,' Kitty stammered, thinking it was what Mr. Cosgrove wanted to hear.

Phillip nodded his head and sighed. He took another glass of brandy and gulped it down quickly, but with such grace that Kitty did not even notice.

She looked down into her book, knitting her eyebrows.

'This book is full of intricate passages, dear me...' she said, smiling to herself.

Phillip looked at the grandfather clock and rose quietly.

'Well, I am afraid I must leave your charming company for this evening, Miss Bennet. I do apologize but I do have some letters of business to attend to. I am sure you will have all the comforts you will need without me and should you require anything, do not shrink from calling the servants. Mr. Pentrose, the butler, is just outside the door.'

'Oh, of course, thank you so much, Mr. Cosgrove, for all your attentions,' Kitty stammered, getting up hastily. He kissed her hand and patted her shoulder and made his way out of the room.

Kitty watched the door shut quietly after he left. She sighed and walked over to the table in the corner. He had left his brandy glass on the tray. She looked around the room, making sure no one was about to enter, and took hold of the decanter. She poured herself a thimble in his glass. She kissed it and then drained it down slowly.

* * *

Someone knocked at Mary's chamber. She raised herself on her elbows.

The maid who was sitting in the foreroom went to open the door. Mary heard some whispers, before the door shut again. She heard steps coming towards her bedroom.

The door was opened slowly. A figure in the shadows.

He walked into the room and sat down at the end of her bed, looking at the wooden floor.

Mary pulled the sheets around her body tightly.

'I am not dressed properly. This is no way to behave. Please be kind and leave,' she said out of the darkness. There was only one candle lit in the adjacent room, throwing a peculiar weak light.

'Have I ever been kind?' he asked, looking at his hands.

'No. Then forget kindness and please, just leave.'

'If you tell me to leave like that, you know I won't, Miss Bennet,' he said, looking up.

His eyes bore into hers with a frightening scrutiny. It was as if he was peeling off her eyelids.

'What do you want then?' she asked, sitting up.

'I wanted to discuss arrangements with you,' he said, pressing his hand on her foot lightly under the covers. She drew it away quickly.

'I know it must inconvenience you but I will recover and there will be no need for further arrangements. I will return home soon.'

'That is not the kind of arrangement I meant,' he said smiling. 'Although I have noticed you haven't been very grateful for my attentions.'

'Should I be? Wouldn't any decent host do the same?'

'Perhaps, but I have given it my best, which cannot be said of everyone. You might wish to be nicer to me.'

'Nicer?' Mary scoffed. 'I cannot believe I am hearing this. I am incredibly well-behaved as it is, really. After what you have told me, I should not even deign to look at you.'

'And yet you are looking at me quite intrusively.'

'You are the one who burst in here announced in the middle of the night,' she retorted.

'It is not quite so late. And I have the right to come and visit my future fiancée.'

'I hardly think so. I am not your fiancée, Mr. Cosgrove. And never shall be.'

'Oh, I think I can change your mind about that,' he said, drawing nearer to her side.

His hand touched her cheek almost gently and drew his fingers down her jaw-line.

'Physical contact does not affect me,' she blurted out, moving her head.

'You know I can make you marry me so why must you make me resort to schemes? Why not accept me as it is, without too much commotion?' he asked, smiling.

'This is the nineteenth century. You cannot oblige me.'

'I shouldn't have to. You should consent on your own.'

'You are right; why would I _not_ consent to marry a man who is clearly insane?'

He chuckled. 'A man who appears to be insane is much less harmful than one who appears to be prim and proper.'

'I don't know about that, but I wouldn't have either of you.'

'I'm afraid you are going to have to choose me,' he said.

'Let me make one thing clear,' she said drawing up to him. 'You will never have me.'

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed.

'What ever do you mean by "have you"?' he asked. 'Do you think I want you? Someone as plain as you shouldn't make such suppositions.'

'I frankly do not care. I am just letting you know,' she said wrinkling her nose.

'You are very proud for someone so humble in position and looks,' he stated, dragging his finger down her shoulders.

'I have things to be proud of which you could not comprehend.'

'Oh really? Is it your intellect? Your book collection? Your anthology of clever thoughts?'

'Don't mock me. You are full of "clever thoughts" but have none,' she spat. 'At least I have my mind.'

'Your mind!' he repeated in awe. 'I wouldn't give two cents on your mind.'

'I'm afraid you would, otherwise you would just ignore me,' she snapped. 'But you taunt me because you know I am not stupid.'

'Oh, Mary Bennet,' he said languidly, 'you see right through me don't you? I taunt you because, unlike others, you have a conscience. And it will be joyful to watch you lose that conscience.'

'Because I would know if my conscience was slipping away and it would hurt me,' she finished.

He smiled broadly. 'Ah, we make such a pair already.'

'Well, Mr. Cosgrove,' Mary replied crisply, 'if you think you will be able to harm me, you are sadly mistaken. I will crush you like a snake.'

Her black eyes sparkled into the night and pierced his.

He was left speechless. His entire face was decomposed.

She coughed loudly and looked away.

He pulled her arm roughly towards him.

'What did you say?'

'You heard me,' she retorted. 'I will step on your venomous head, the way Jesus did to the devil.'

Before his eyes, Mary Bennet had turned into a wild, dangerous creature, her voice low and powerful, her eyes ablaze.

'Will you?' he asked silently, gripping her arm tightly.

'You can be certain of that. If you do not harm me, I won't harm you. But if you do, then I will have no mercy on you,' she finished.

Phillip knew he should have laughed. What could a poor country girl ever do to him?

But something in her tone and expression made him pay heed to her words and remain quiet.

A sudden fire inside of him turned cold. He felt the sweat trickling down his back. It was very warm in the room.

'I see there is a side of you unknown to me. I look forward to be acquainted with it,' he said, staring at her pale-white long neck.

'You shouldn't. You will not like it,' she said coldly.

Her hot breath hit his chest like a sword. His fingers moved over from their grip over her arm, until they landed on her neck.

'You are very plain, Mary Bennet,' he spoke hoarsely. 'But I must confess...'

His face drew nearer to hers, until their noses touched. She remained still and cold, her eyes spiteful and withdrawn.

'I must confess,' he said, 'you are...'

She raised an eyebrow in annoyance.

He lifted his hand from her neck and placed it on her forehead.

'You are burning,' he finished.

She blinked surprised.

'You are feverish,' he concluded. 'Probably too much excitement.'

She pulled his hand away and lunged for the medicine on the bedside table.

He was quicker and found the bottle faster. He took a spoon in his hands and poured some liquid in it.

She yanked the spoon from him and swallowed its contents quickly, looking away.

'You know, Miss Bennet, that if you do not marry me, others will suffer,' he said matter-of-factly.

'Others? If that is a threat...'

'No threat, Miss Bennet. I would never be so callous. But I wouldn't want to harm your little sister, Kitty. The darling girl is quite in raptures. One move on my part and she will be quite in love. And if that happens, you know she will be at my mercy. I could jilt her in the most miserable of ways. I could shame her and make her ineligible for any other man. It is up to you, Miss Bennet. Choose your sister's fate.'

Mary felt her ears were cheating her. There was no other explanation for what she had just heard.

Her skin turned cold and her mouth became dry. Her fingers started trembling in anger. She felt the sheets wind around her body, trapping her in a cage. The ceiling was falling on her shoulders. And she was becoming more and more aware that it was getting harder to breathe in the stuffy room.

'Shall I open a window?' he asked politely.

'You, you could not be so vile!'

'Do not compliment me, Miss Bennet. I might blush.'

She grasped his shirt between her fingers tightly.

'If you as so much attempt to hurt her, I swear I will...'

'You will what?' he dared her. 'There is nothing you can do.'

'I will make you regret the day you met her,' she spat out angrily.

Phillip almost fell off the bed. Her anger was growing every minute and it made for an unnerving sight.

'You're a little lioness, aren't you?'

'I will fight you,' she said and snatched her hand away.

With that, she turned to the other side of the bed, pulled her robe around her and rose to her feet.

She walked to her boudoir quickly and shut the door.

Phillip looked around him as if he had woken up from a dream. The feel of her was still on his skin. He rose and rubbed his hands against his breeches.

The candle light died out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone, long time no chapter I know and this one isn't particularly long, but I have had some bad writing spells as of late, so this will have to do, for now. **

**I don't know how to thank you for the support you've shown to this story and the wonderful reviews and comments so once again many many thanks, you've been very kind, especially since this is such a tricky story :) I am really happy you haven't forgotten about it. **

**So, I hope you enjoy:)**

Kitty Bennet was ambling happily through the gardens with Mr. Cosgrove by her side the following day, when a vision arrested them both. Miss Mary Bennet had come out of her room unbeknownst to anyone and was walking animatedly towards the stables. Kitty felt Phillip detach himself from her warm, soft arm and walk towards her sister, but not before pressing the skin of her waist with the tip of his fingers, as a small sign that he would return to her later.

'Miss Bennet, you should not be out by yourself in your state!' he exclaimed at the pale-looking figure that had stopped briefly in front of a flight of marble steps.

She was holding a large green shawl over her shoulders in such a dignified manner that when he approached her, he felt he must not touch her or make any other movement.

'My state is no business of yours and I am free to walk as I please,' she replied crisply and stared at horizon.

'Of course, it is no business of mine how you feel at the moment but I do not think you could walk as freely as you said you would, for you are very frail and I believe you would not be very successful in freeing yourself from any incarceration.'

'Is that an allusion? Because I do not believe Netherfield Hall is a prison.'

'No, of course not, but the situation obliges you to pay heed to my advice.'

'You might think I am obliged by my trespassing over your kindness to behave in a certain manner, but as you have no kindness to speak of, I can safely feel no remorse in being my very worst around you.'

'How very well said and what marvelous phrases you employ. You are a poetess of the highest order, your words are cynical, but not pompous, they are very simple and crude. I am mystified by your anonymity in this county.'

'I am well-known in this county for being a good person. And I intend to keep that title.'

'I wish you would give that title up and become a writer, because you have the same genuine, charming naiveté of a romantic. Your unsteady mind and coarse way of thinking would only serve to enhance your artistic abilities,' Mr. Cosgrove commented.

'Mock me as you please. You are unable to speak to me in other terms. And you are not someone I would ever pay heed to,' Mary replied coldly and walked towards her sister.

Phillip Cosgrove felt a little insect bite one of his fingers. He pressed his finger against his coat. The small pain was enhanced by a general feeling of frustration. He was growing tired. Had she been a Countess or some woman of great intelligence he could have forgiven her this immense perverseness of character, but as it was, he could not make allowances for a young girl of little talent and consequence, who still found it in her to be as cantankerous and spiteful as she could.

Kitty Bennet meanwhile, had taken her sister's hand and was applying pressure to it while she was reprimanding her for her mistake.

'Why on Earth would you get out of bed? You are still with fever, I can sense it,' she was telling her. 'Were you afraid? Or did you feel alone?'

'Both I suppose,' Mary said staring at the large leaves spread on the ground. 'I wanted to see if you were alright.'

'You do not need to watch over me. I was walking with Mr. Cosgrove,' she replied, her voice taking a secretive tone. 'He was telling me about his childhood. It is a very interesting story. He was telling me about his father as well. I believe he feels at ease talking to me about these matters.'

Mary looked back at him over her shoulder. He was smoking a cigarette.

'Whatever he tells you, remember this Kitty, we are not to stay here for too long. Please do not grow very attached to him. He will soon leave and you should not think of him as more than an acquaintance.'

'I can very well think of him as I choose, Mary. Please stop being so fretful all the time. You worry so much about me! My feelings are my own and if you think I shall be hurt, I believe it is Mr. Cosgrove who is in more danger of that because I care little for him as it is. Well, not more than I would care for Denny, or someone the like.'

'Then if you care so little for him, abandon your walk and come read with me in the library,' Mary said sweetly.

'Pshaw! It is too beautiful outside to stay inside. I would not like that at all. You'd better go inside though, because you need to rest. I will come back soon,' Kitty said, kissing her cheek.

'I will stay on the terrace for a while, watching you,' Mary replied.

Kitty did not like this answer at all. She was never at ease when Mary watched her. Even at home she felt Mary always had her eye on her which made it very difficult for her to do as she pleased. Mary was aware of this inconvenience and was glad she had found a way to keep watch of her sister without having to exert herself too much.

At length, Kitty and Mr. Cosgrove had to resume their walk, seeing as Mary was bent on reading on the terrace.

It was not only her sister who felt her watchful eye. Mr. Cosgrove felt the need to look around him from time to time. He was also a lot more careful not to let Kitty see his anger. He pressed his fingers over those she held over his elbow.

'I wish you would come and visit me, Miss Bennet, after I leave. But I know that to be very difficult since my dwellings are so far from here. If there was a way I could take you with me. I believe your father would be very mad. But I would return you in one piece.'

Kitty blushed deeply.

'I am sure I could visit, somehow. I would like that very much.'

'Tell me now and satisfy my curiosity, if you will, have you ever had a suitor?'

'There were some who I believed would be, but there was no one who made his intentions clear,' she spoke softly.

'I see. Forgive my direct manner of speaking, but I was expecting to hear you had several, in which case I was curious to see how you dispatched of so many young men.'

This indirect compliment made Kitty giggle happily.

'You think me a vixen!'

'Not at all.'

'Then you think me very crafty.'

'No, I just think you beautiful and charming and women like you in these parts of the country have no trouble in securing many hearts,' he replied.

This indirect insult was taken once more as a compliment.

'I bet you tell this to all young ladies,' she said playfully.

'I must confess no, since not all of them are beautiful or charming,' he said, coating his words in naiveté. 'But to those who deserve it, surely I do.'

Kitty thought it odd of him not to assure her of her singularity. Most young men, when asked this question, replied in the absolute negative.

His deliberate honesty attracted her to him and made her think he was genuine and artless. She did not take into account honesty as a useful device for beguiling.

'You speak so honestly, without any artifice, I must confess I am surprised.'

'I was hoping you would be something else as well,' he said, smiling warmly.

She knew the reply must have some relation to her feelings for him but the riddle was too difficult. What could he mean?

Two large bushels hid them from Mary's eye. It was then that Mr. Cosgrove decided to act. He felt a bit lighter without the elder sister's hawk-like watch.

He pulled Kitty to him swiftly, lifted her chin with the tip of his fingers and kissed her lips hastily. His eyes were open so he could better enjoy the look on Kitty's face. She was shocked and utterly happy at the same time.

But it was over as soon as it began. He let go of her quickly and drew away from her, coughing. Kitty took this as bashfulness and fear. He saw him look away nervously. She imagined he was regretting his passionate impulse. Her heart jumped in glee and she suppressed a smile. However, Mr. Cosgrove was only making sure no one had seen him. And he hid his face from her to hide his spitting on the ground.

However, when he turned to look at her, his eyes were glossy with lust. Or so she imagined. And her breath stopped. Mr. Cosgrove was actually contemplating shooting birds again. He could hear the gunshot in his ears. And he smiled ruefully.

Then he looked down quickly. His boots were soiled.

'I apologize profusely, Miss Bennet. I do not know what came over me,' he said quietly. 'Please, accept my apologies. And know it shall never happen again.'

'Oh…Sir, there is no harm…I accept your apology. It was…a very pleasant kiss,' she confessed.

'Was it your first?' he asked, squinting at her.

Kitty almost giggled, but she instantly hid her mirth.

'I'm afraid not, Sir.'

Mr. Cosgrove nodded his head. 'I thought so. Your lips are too skillful.'

Kitty blushed again, feeling very much admired.

'Well, Miss Bennet, I must confess then that this was the first time I kissed a woman on her lips,' he said suddenly.

She stared at him confused.

'That cannot be!' she shrieked.

He laughed. It was shockingly true. He had kissed any other parts of a woman, but never the lips. The lips of a woman were to him the most dreaded piece of their anatomy.

'It is my awful secret,' he said, wincing.

Kitty was reminded of what Lydia had once told him. Men never kiss harlots. She shook her head. No, this was not Mr. Cosgrove.

'Well, I am honoured to be your first then,' she said, laughing. 'Although you took me by surprise greatly.'

'I would have never had the chance or courage to do it, had we not been alone,' he said, alluding to her sister.

'Oh, yes, Mary would have not allowed this,' Kitty said, her tone mischievous.

'Yes, I believe she must be more severe than your own mother,' he remarked.

'Oh, mama is _never_ really severe. Mary is much worse. It is one of the reasons why _she_ has never been kissed, I suppose. She would disapprove of any lips, I'm afraid.'

'And what a sad creature she must be then,' he said, laughing. 'There is no greater pleasure in life than making love.'

'Yes, it is a very beautiful thing,' Kitty agreed warmly. 'Mary always condemns me for talking to young men or laughing at their words, or dancing with them, but she does not appreciate love.'

'How could she if she has never done those things?' he replied sarcastically, but Kitty took no notice.

'We had better keep walking,' Kitty said, looking over her shoulder. Mary had already risen from her chair.

'Yes, we ought,' he said, taking her hand in his.

'Is the party coming this evening?' she asked, feeling like she should talk of other things.

'Yes, hopefully. But they are idle and fickle, so one never knows with them.'

'I do hope they come,' she said, blushing. 'I fear to be alone.'

'With me, you mean?' he asked her boldly.

Kitty smiled secretively and hid her face.

* * *

Later that evening, a strange traveler arrived in Hertfordshire. He called on the Bennets first and then on the Lucases. He had taken lodgings in Merryton. The Bennets insisted he stay at Longbourn but he refused, saying he was in town for business and he would not stay long.

Upon hearing of the two sisters being at Netherfield, Colonel Fitzwilliam hurried to visit Mr. Cosgrove.


End file.
